Normalcy has returned. For 364 days a year, the house that I live in is typically in an unruly state of mess but magically, it undergoes a Cinderella-esque transformation for just one day in the year. All the clutter dusted off and swept away from plain sight as the living quarters become fit to welcome visitors. But just like in the fairytale, as the clock strikes at midnight, everything reverts back to its original state.

The tradition of celebrating occasions has never quite taken off in my family. In fact, if not for visiting relatives, CNY has never been quite the big thing. The annual spring cleaning is really just an excuse to get rid of long-forgotten, dated relic – you know, things bought years ago but used only once. The exercise is futile though, as only a handful are actually discarded.

You see, the problem is that my family is a bunch of champion hoarders. I’m ashamed to admit it but the severity of the problem is so much so that VHS tapes, primary school textbooks and even infant wear are still lying around somewhere in the house. Spring cleaning, in all honesty, is a facade – a game of musical chairs to obscure unsightly pieces from prying eyes – lasting barely beyond the departure of the final visitors.

It’s a little like those home makeover reality show where contestants pick new furnishings and give their abodes a fresh breath of life; the winner keeps the new look while the loser has to give up the chosen furniture. But if you look at the whole point of it, it’s ultimately a matter of ‘face-saving’ in front of relatives who come by to pay respects to the elders. After all, who wants to be remembered for living in a dump decades later?