Tuesday, November 7, 2017
Today I am grateful for vintage stuff. And I’m getting rid of 5 bags. Okay, “vintage” might be a bit of an exaggeration. Let’s call it old crap that I have been moving seasonally from under the bed bins to my drawers for 10 years without wearing half of it. See, vintage.
I don’t know why I am hanging onto turtlenecks that have gotten shorter and wider in the dryer because now they barely come to my waist, even though I’ve gotten shorter and wider, too. Maybe I should toss myself in the dryer. Why have I kept them? They’re ribbed and I like the colors, pink and green. But I never wear them. I haven’t worn them since tunic tops came out, which work a whole lot better and hide a whole lot more sins. Out they go.
Himself was not happy “doing” dresser drawers today. So what? Was I thrilled? Nope. Did I have any intention of being the only one to have the joy of cleaning out drawers? Nope. Suck it up, big guy! You’re in for it, now. I set him to work pulling bins out from under the bed. Sarongs I’m keeping. T-shirts from Arizona. Out. “Hey, I didn’t know I had this warm fleece jacket,” he says. I tell him to put it with the 300 other ones hanging in his closet. A man can never have enough warm jackets. Just ask him.
We found an entire bin with my old professional headshots from when I was seriously going to be a famous actress. Fifteen years ago. The pictures are gorgeous. But if I walked into an audition with one under my arm and handed it to the casting director, they’d say, “Nice to meet you, but who in the hell is this?” I kept a small box of pics and postcards for nostalgia sake and to throw out when we clean out the room I’m storing them in. Baby-steps. The rest are getting recycled, unless someone trash pics for target practice. Out they go!
Himself got rid of a bazillion size medium T-shirts and cleared out an entire sock drawer. Yes, he now has an empty drawer. It isn’t big, but it’s empty. Show off. I don’t have an empty drawer and I did NOT get rid of my thinner-Mary sweats and shirts. I kept them. Hope springs eternal that I will one day get back into those puppies and not have to buy everything new. With any luck I won’t be too old and lame-brained to remember I saved them. If I start bitching about needing skinny clothes, one of you can remind me. FYI-The boxes (yes, plural) are in the storage room upstairs. . . in case I ask.
We have two empty bins that we’ll use when we continue cleaning in the basement, which is what started this entire nightmare. Six bags of odd cloths are going to the thrift store. Two bags got thrown out. And one bag. . .the Faces-of-Mary one. . .goes in the recycling bin. Talk about vintage stuff!