The packrat fairy on my left shoulder wasn't so calm. Clutching the lapels of her 1980s power suit, she shifted her Bag o' Stuff (containing essentials such as an 8-track player, a pair of espadrilles, a Duran Duran album and an instrument of torture called the Epilator), smoothed down her 70s perm, and hollered: "NO, DON'T DO IT! IT MIGHT COME IN USEFUL!"
If you guessed from the above that I was spring cleaning, and that the inner me often channels the packrat fairy, you'd be right.
I did manage to ditch a lot of junk by gritting my teeth and barely looking before consigning the items to the bin bag. But then came the hard bit: Decluttering the bookshelves.
I admit it. I have a problem.
It's called Ican'tpassabookshopwithoutgoinginandbuyingstuffitis.
I also have a related condition called butIlovethatbookandcan'tpossiblygetridofititis.
OK, full disclosure. My name is Mio Debnam and I am a book addict.
I console myself that it is better than having an addiction to something really expensive and bad for your health, like heroin... or designer heels (yes, really - shoes are bad for the health of both your wallet and your feet! Have you seen this season's killer heels? Tres sexy, and just dandy if you only have to walk the red carpet, but totally blister and bunion inducing otherwise).
Books are educational, interesting, eye opening and mind expanding, and can be shared with friends and family... Plus as someone who works in the publishing industry, I have an excuse to love and collect books - right?
As I sat there, making excuses so that I didn't have to start the annual bookshelf clear out, I suddenly remembered a news article I'd read about someone who had obsessively collected books and magazines until their home was full to the brim of teetering stacks of text. The collector had come to a grisly end, due to a book avalanche.
Whilst my family wasn't in any danger of being buried alive, looking at the profusion of bookshelves in my home - each shelf tightly packed, mostly two books deep - and the piles of books stacked in various places, I did have to acknowledge that Something Had To Be Done.
So, taking a deep breath and squaring my shoulders, I began. I started on the top shelf - the one for maps, travel guides etc. Instantly, my hand alighted on something which looked like a surefire 'chuck' - a 1982 guide called 'Nightlife in London'.
I carried it confidently over to the discard pile, but then I started wondering if I might need it for research reasons - to add period flavour to a book I've outlined, which is partly set in 80s London. After a bit of dithering, I put it on the 'maybe' pile instead.
One by one, deep into the night I went through my shelves. It was a painful experience. Many, many hours later, I finished. I had a tiny pile of books for the bin - beloved books which had made the cut in previous years, but were now so old, so musty, mouldy and spotted, that I was afraid they would give anyone who opened them a dastardly lung disorder.
There was a larger pile of repeats. As we are known as a book loving family, many of the gifts we receive are books. Often, we already have a copy... or two, or three - if the book happened to be a bestseller and several people had the same idea.
Then, finally, there was the Maybe pile - a vast stack of over a hundred books for all ages... Books that we had enjoyed but I felt we might be able to part with, if absolutely necessary.
At that point, I had to totter to bed, exhausted with the emotional turmoil I'd had to endure in choosing which books to discard.
The next day, I called the husband (who was on the other side of the world, on a business trip) for moral support. "I'm not sure - some of the maybe books might come into use when I need to talk about a particular style of writing, or a particular author, or for research, or for..." I babbled, part hoping that he would agree and tell me to reinstate them all.
Luckily, the husband is a clever fellow. He murmured in an understanding way, then reasoned quietly: "But, if you clear some shelf space, you will be able to buy more when we go to the UK."
He'd hit on the only reason good enough to make me let go.
Within a couple of hours, I'd contacted charities, and arranged for various friends to come and take all they wanted. And now, a few days later, our home is looking far sleeker and clutter free than it has in ages.
I'm so proud that I managed to do it - and the fact that lots of people have new books to enjoy puts a smile on my face too.
I'm totally Mrs Smug.
Now all I have left to do, is to buy an extra large suitcase to fill with all those new releases, and countdown to departure - Waterstones and Foyles, here I come!
