I have a friend who moved into a new apartment and he has worked very hard to get rid of "clutter" and that got me to thinking. His idea of clutter and my idea of clutter are definitely 2 different things! I have spent many years collecting "things" that I really need. I have 2 bookcases full of cook books. At one point in time, several years back, I decided to sort them and only keep the ones I really needed.
So I made 3 piles: One for cookbooks I definitely wanted to keep. One for maybe I wanted to keep. One for "never look at these and why are they even here?" I very carefully leafed through each book and placed it in one of the three piles. When all the cookbooks were in respective piles, I put the "definitely wanted to keep ones" back on the shelf. Then I took a closer look at pile number 2. When all of them were in pile #1, I put them back on the shelf. Pile #3 was now in pile #2 position. And I sorted them and they were now in pile #1 which went back on the shelf.
I picked up the one remaining item and looked at it. I could not think of a single soul that was worthy of having it and it looked so lonely there that I put it back on the shelf. Now you may think this was an exercise in futility, but it wasn't. I did exactly what I set out to do. No, I did not throw anything out or give anything to the Goodwill, but I convinced myself that it was alright to keep all of them because they were my friends! I love books and I worship cookbooks!
So now I have this friend pointing out the virtues of "purging" and I decided to try it again. This time I decided on the closet. Man, there is stuff hanging on those rods that I do not even remember ever seeing before. This body has not seen a dress draped over it in 15 years and yet there are two dresses and 3 skirts hanging there waiting for the right moment. Patient little things, I will say that for them.
Now, last year I purged all my shorts after the summer was over. In all fairness I did that by sheer virtue of not knowing where I put them. The only thing I can figure out is that they wound up in the Goodwill box quite by accident. In all fairness, I decide this year that I am a little old for shorts so I have narrowed the summer selection down to the ones that end at mid-calf. Those are called something like "capri, jamaca or something else." I think those are going away this year.
So, into the closet I went with my little bag. First to go was the brown dress with the necklace to match, still complete with price tags. Then came a pretty little white gathered cotton skirt with a turquoise band embroidered around the bottom. I really liked that, but into the pile it went. Little old for that one. Then there was a beige almost denim fitted skirt that actually fit me, but there again, it was a skirt. Then some sort of African caftan, that God only know where that came from! And a slinky black number with huge blue and red flowers. What the hell was I thinking when I brought that home! Also pulled out a long sleeved light blue shirt with a frilly bow-tie and a vest to match. (I can not picture me in long sleeves, or frills, and sure as hell not a vest!) There is even a Japanese kimono hanging in there; a gift from a friend. I can not imagine what my friend thought I would do with that, but I can not toss out something a friend gave me, can I?
OK, so I am setting here at 6:00 in the morning looking over at that black bag and some how that white skirt is peeking out at me. I know if I touch that bag, the skirt is coming out and going into the closet. If it gets out, so will that beige skirt and then what? OMG! I think I am a hoarder!
So, here is what I will do...When my friend asks how I am coming in the closet, I am going to tell him "Really, really good. I have a giant bag!" As long as he does not ask what is in the bag, I am good to go. That sounds like a very non committal answer to me. Not a lie, exactly, and really not the complete and unadulterated truth and with a little luck and a cookie waved under his nose, he may not push it. Damn!
So I made 3 piles: One for cookbooks I definitely wanted to keep. One for maybe I wanted to keep. One for "never look at these and why are they even here?" I very carefully leafed through each book and placed it in one of the three piles. When all the cookbooks were in respective piles, I put the "definitely wanted to keep ones" back on the shelf. Then I took a closer look at pile number 2. When all of them were in pile #1, I put them back on the shelf. Pile #3 was now in pile #2 position. And I sorted them and they were now in pile #1 which went back on the shelf.
I picked up the one remaining item and looked at it. I could not think of a single soul that was worthy of having it and it looked so lonely there that I put it back on the shelf. Now you may think this was an exercise in futility, but it wasn't. I did exactly what I set out to do. No, I did not throw anything out or give anything to the Goodwill, but I convinced myself that it was alright to keep all of them because they were my friends! I love books and I worship cookbooks!
So now I have this friend pointing out the virtues of "purging" and I decided to try it again. This time I decided on the closet. Man, there is stuff hanging on those rods that I do not even remember ever seeing before. This body has not seen a dress draped over it in 15 years and yet there are two dresses and 3 skirts hanging there waiting for the right moment. Patient little things, I will say that for them.
Now, last year I purged all my shorts after the summer was over. In all fairness I did that by sheer virtue of not knowing where I put them. The only thing I can figure out is that they wound up in the Goodwill box quite by accident. In all fairness, I decide this year that I am a little old for shorts so I have narrowed the summer selection down to the ones that end at mid-calf. Those are called something like "capri, jamaca or something else." I think those are going away this year.
So, into the closet I went with my little bag. First to go was the brown dress with the necklace to match, still complete with price tags. Then came a pretty little white gathered cotton skirt with a turquoise band embroidered around the bottom. I really liked that, but into the pile it went. Little old for that one. Then there was a beige almost denim fitted skirt that actually fit me, but there again, it was a skirt. Then some sort of African caftan, that God only know where that came from! And a slinky black number with huge blue and red flowers. What the hell was I thinking when I brought that home! Also pulled out a long sleeved light blue shirt with a frilly bow-tie and a vest to match. (I can not picture me in long sleeves, or frills, and sure as hell not a vest!) There is even a Japanese kimono hanging in there; a gift from a friend. I can not imagine what my friend thought I would do with that, but I can not toss out something a friend gave me, can I?
OK, so I am setting here at 6:00 in the morning looking over at that black bag and some how that white skirt is peeking out at me. I know if I touch that bag, the skirt is coming out and going into the closet. If it gets out, so will that beige skirt and then what? OMG! I think I am a hoarder!
So, here is what I will do...When my friend asks how I am coming in the closet, I am going to tell him "Really, really good. I have a giant bag!" As long as he does not ask what is in the bag, I am good to go. That sounds like a very non committal answer to me. Not a lie, exactly, and really not the complete and unadulterated truth and with a little luck and a cookie waved under his nose, he may not push it. Damn!
