“Menopause, Clutter, and Husbands: A Hormonal Journey to Self-Storage”
Ah, menopause—the mysterious season of life that sneaks up on us with all the subtlety of an eighties cover band flash mobbing through a library. One minute, you’re enjoying your morning coffee, and the next, you’re burning up like a human torch while simultaneously crying over that toe-sock that doesn’t have a matching partner. But what do menopause, clutter, and husbands have in common? Oh, let me count the ways…
The Hormonal Hurricane Meets the Household Hoard
Picture this: It’s 3 a.m., and you’re wide awake. Not because you want to be, but because your hormones have decided to turn your bedroom into a steam room and your mind into a boggling “ragu” of irrational thoughts, such as “Is Brooke really back with Ridge on The Bold and The Beautiful?” You shuffle to the living room in search of solace and a nice cup of tea, and stub your toe on a box labelled “Miscellaneous Stuff (DO NOT OPEN).” Inside? Your husband’s collection of deflated footballs, VHS tapes, Self Help books and a mysterious rock he swears is from Mars. (Spoiler alert: IT’S NOT.) Just sayin!
The clutter—it’s everywhere. The spare room is groaning under the weight of Christmas decorations you haven’t used since Bob Hawke was Prime Minister. The garage? A labyrinth of half-finished DIY projects your husband promised to complete “as soon as he has the time.” The Tupperware lids in the kitchen cabinets have been on a decade-long quest to reunite with their long-lost containers, a tragic love story with no happy ending. And your closet? Let’s not even talk about the closet. Those size eight jeans did nothing wrong, and you have been asking way too much of them since 1994. They aren’t going to fit again, Karen, no matter how optimistic you are.
The Great Declutter: A Marital Adventure
Menopause has a way of bringing clarity—and by clarity, I mean the sudden, unstoppable urge to purge your home of everything that isn’t nailed down. You want space. You need space. “Brace position, husbands. It’s just turbulence.” Do not—I repeat, do NOT—get in the way. Your wife is storming through the house like a menopausal tornado armed with a label maker, a Pacmaster tape dispenser, and a terrifyingly intense determination. And your husband? He’s clinging to his Geelong Football Club 2007 premiership beer can collection like it’s the last lifeboat on the Titanic, his eyes darting around in sheer panic as if he’s next on the chopping block. “But these are vintage!” he squeaks, holding the cans protectively as your gaze bores into him like a laser beam.
Oh, Greg. Sweet, naive Greg.
“We might need that one day!” he whispers quietly, as you hold up a broken waffle maker that hasn’t worked since 2003. Sure, Greg. Because nothing screams “we’re prepared” like a waffle maker without a cord and three missing screws.
Compromise, they say, is the key to a happy marriage. But let me tell you, there’s no compromising when menopause decides it’s time to declutter. That’s where self-storage comes in—the Switzerland of marital disputes. Neutral territory where your husband’s “irreplaceable” collection of old car manuals can live happily ever after, far away from your newly minimalist living room.
The Self-Storage Solution: Sanity in a Box
Self-storage is the unsung hero of menopause. It’s the magical place where you can store your sanity, one box at a time. Need a spot for the three different juicers you bought during your “I’m going to start juicing” phase? Self-storage. Want to hang on to those baby clothes for the grandkids who haven’t even been conceived yet? Self-storage. Husband refusing to part with his 47 boxes of “perfectly good” wires and cables? You guessed it—self-storage.
And the best part? You don’t have to see it. Out of sight, out of mind. Suddenly, your home is an oasis of calm (or at least as calm as it can be when your hormones are playing checkers with your emotions). Your living room becomes a space for yoga, or wine and cheese nights, or whatever else makes you feel human again. And your husband? He’s free to visit his “treasures” at the storage facility whenever he wants. Everybody wins.
A Few Words of Wisdom
Before you dive headfirst into the decluttering process, here are a few tips to make the journey a little smoother:
- Label Everything: Because there’s nothing worse than tearing apart your newly organised home looking for your kid’s baby book only to find it tucked behind a box of “Seasonal Stuff (Maybe).”
- Set Boundaries: Decide what stays, what goes, and what gets shipped off to storage. And if your husband starts arguing for the sentimental value of his 1980s Walkman? Smile sweetly and hand him a storage unit brochure.
- Celebrate Small Wins: Cleared out the junk drawer? That’s a victory. Reclaimed the guest room from the clutches of old gym equipment? Time for champagne.
Conclusion: Embrace the Chaos
Menopause, clutter, and husbands may seem like a recipe for disaster, but with a little humour and a lot of storage space, you can survive this wild ride. Embrace the chaos, laugh through the tears, and remember: Self-storage isn’t just a service. It’s a lifeline. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go label a box of “Greg’s Mystery Junk” and ship it off to its new home. Cheers!
“Life doesn’t end with menopause, it’s the beginning of a new adventure. Strap in and enjoy the ride!”
Dame Helen Mirren
