Monday, September 28, 2020
Today I am grateful for getting rid of crap. I notice a tiny tear in one of our sheets, which are old. So, I did what I do these days and got on line to Kohls and ordered new ones that cost next to nothing, what with discounts.
Then I looked in a bin under the bed. Sheets. Why are they there? What’s wrong with them? Ah, I remember, they didn’t have strong enough elastic all around the bottom fitted sheet and wouldn’t stay on the bed. Every morning Himself woke up with the fitted around his head, like he was wearing a hooded baby towel. Out they go!
Then I opened a drawer and found more sheets and pillowcases. Some that fit the pillows we use now, some pillows I haven’t used in eight years. But what’s wrong with these sheets? I opened them up on the bed and ran my hand across the fitted sheet. Balls. Hundreds of tiny, twisted up, fabric balls! Since I am the Princess in the Princess and the Pea, there is no way I could tolerate them for one minute. Out they go!
I got to wondering how much of the same I had upstairs in our “storage”, aka, throw-all-the-crap-in-here room. Turns out I had three more bags of various bedding, some of which I bought in Jakarta, Indonesia, over 20 years ago. They are for the spare bed, except the spare bed is queen sized and the sheets are king. Out they go!
Christmas sheets with similar balls and piling on the bottom sheet. Out! Assorted pillow cases from who knows what sheets! Out! What about the green ones that seem okay to look at until I touch them, I’m curious. They are soft and almost flannel. I’m a radiator and I don’t need flannel, or anything that will make it difficult for me to slide around to get cooler. Out they go!
A black lace, formal dress I last wore 25 years ago; a red lingerie set that I totally forgot I had and haven’t worn in 200 years; old pillows; a bag of office crap; slacks with a very tight calf that piss me off every time I wear them and are the exact color of Peppa Pig, so I don’t wear them; and four boxes of “skinny” clothes from six years ago when I packed them up to “get into again” someday. Hah! If it didn’t happen by now, I’m gonna want new styles when if and when it ever does! Out! Out! Out!
I even found a dress, still in the dry-cleaning package that looked like it would fit, so I tried it on. Nice dress. Still fit. No zipper! Hot! Irritating! I almost had to yell for Himself to call the fire department and have them run over with the jaws-of-life to get me out of the damned thing. Nice dress or not, if it irritated me just trying it on, and caused flop-sweats to crawl out of, then I don’t need it. I’m all about NOT being irritated! Out it goes! Out! Out! Out!
I’m still wearing the poundage results from some of the pity party,
Covid-chips/cookies/cake incidents which began last February and I’m having a difficult time stopping, but getting rid of all of this crap makes me feel blissfully unburdened. I actually think I might feel svelte! Nah!