I'm moving house in the next few months, so I'm busy packing up and clearing out. Naturally I'm glued to Marie Kondo's new show on Netflix (at least it gives me an excuse to avoid actually packing up and clearing out).
Now, whatever the state of your home, tiny tidiness expert Kondo is either a fairy godmother genius or too insufferably smug for words. I'm afraid I thought she would help, but I'm quickly falling into the latter category with each new episode.
It's not that I'm an overly messy person to begin with; truth be told, I prefer de-cluttered necessary over cluttery sentimentalism, but it's mainly that I don't care that much. If someone comes to visit me and their first thought is, "Look at the mess in this kitchen, wouldn't you think she'd clear it up?", then they have two options: find a cleaner friend, or knock themselves out and clean it up!
I'll tell you what doesn't 'spark joy': being told what to do by a patronising perfectionist with a full styling team trailing behind her. Have we reached peak reality television with a show about tidying up? What next? - "Celebrity Clutter - Six Slobby Slebs Cry When Shown How to Plump Their Own Cushions?" I'm telling you, don't be surprised if it's on the way for the 'Dancing With The Stars' rejects.
Kondo, whose website is even tidier than she is, tells us about her Kon Mari goals every January. These include (brace yourself Brigid), 'kakizome', which involves writing the bloody goals down using calligraphy paper and a brush. She makes the ink herself first, obviously, and concedes (although you'd imagine the editor insisted on this) that it's 'OK' to use a regular pen and paper. If you must.
Then she has a 'symbolic' meal called 'osechi ryori'. And then, she rounds it off by suggesting (for which, read: demanding) we replace one old item with one new item. Sadly she's not talking about the rush to Arnotts for the January sales, but replacing her underwear with feng shui knickers (white only) to begin the year 'feeling refreshed'. Someone should tell her if she changes her pants every day she can enjoy the feeling all year round.
Anyhow, I'm off to Ikea to get some huge plastic boxes and plenty of bleach. If Marie wants to lend a hand by actually doing a bit of work and rolling up my socks and jumpers she knows where to find me.
My empty nester status means I'm rattling around in three rooms at the moment like an aul wan, switching off radiators and fitting all my food on one shelf in the fridge.
I'm not sure where I'll end up when I sell, but I know where I'm not moving, and that's to Manhattan.
The 'Wall Street Journal' reports that hedge fund billionaire Kenneth Griffin has just spent an eye-watering $238m (€208m) on a new home in the Big Apple.
And I might sound like an Irish mammy here, but it's ONLY AN APARTMENT!
Stretching to 24,000 square foot of space overlooking Central Park, it dwarfs the previous price record of $100.5m for a similar gaff down the road.
And Mr Griffin won't even be living there full time. He already owns homes in Chicago, London, Miami, and, somewhat inexplicably, another one in New York.
They must see him coming, since he's also broken the record for buying the most expensive homes in two of those other cities.
Perhaps Marie Kondo could help him clear out his bank balance and save him from himself.