@Fivebyfivesq Thanks. It meant I finally felt like my home was my own, rather than somebody else's territory that they were metaphorically pissing all over.
Started going out with DP shortly after that. Had a blip when he moved all his shit in, had a few rage cleans because he Just Doesn't See The Fucking Mess, but the overall effect of not moaning about it, just sorting it, really helped.
Whilst I'm between jobs next month, I'm planning another purge, as most of the clothes are worn out now and there are a couple of appliances that are fucked. Because there isn't shit laying about on them, it'll be a doddle to get them out and recycled (paying for collection/disposal is worth every fucking penny), the replacements in and running quickly.
My mental shopping list is;
Three tops for the new job.
New underwear. The old ones will be binned.
New socks. The old ones will be binned.
Washing machine.
Microwave.
I just won't waste the time, inclination or mental energy to deal with shit I don't actually have to put up with anymore.
And surprisingly enough, it actually makes me a hell of a lot nicer person to be around. Possibly because I can focus on the scent of my lavender, water my ginger plant by the back door, the honeysuckle under the bedroom window, that kind of thing, rather than be stressing about washing, tidying, finding my keys/card/phone/bus pass/shoes, etc.