Thursday, July 31, 2014
Close to Nowhere
Lists and T-shirts keep growing
• I really, really hate my closet. It’s nice and big and roomy, with lots of racks for hanging stuff and plenty of shelves.
The problem with my closet is that it’s too crowded.
Youngest granddaughter Gremlin darted in and out of my room and when I could catch her, she was a ton of help.
I admit to having a lot of shoes. Remy was floored at the amount of T-shirts in my closet.
I found clothes hanging on the racks that I haven’t worn since before Grem was born -- 16 years ago.
I’ve heard that if you haven’t worn it in a year, it’s time to toss it. I think I’ve waited long enough on some of these things.
I had to get rid of a lot of shoes also. I had three shoe racks on the floor of the closet and weaned the shoes down to two racks. I put a lot of my newer shoes in bags for Goodwill and kept some of the older ones for purely sentimental reasons.
I tossed the shoes I wore to Dana’s wedding and kept a pair of black and white oxfords that look new because I don’t think I’ve ever worn them. I’ve had them about 30 years though.
I didn’t keep any of my dressy shoes that have straps across the ankle and have to be buckled. My poor ole (old!) arthritic hips will not bend that far anymore. I figure if it hurts to put them on, I’m not gonna wear them anyway, so why keep them?
At the end of the day, oldest granddaughter Meredith piled four and a half bags of clothes and two and a half bags of shoes in the car to take to Goodwill in Oxford.
And I still have so many T-shirts, that I have a stool to climb on to reach the top of the stacks. I’m never going to wear that many T-shirts, although it is my standard uniform -- T-shirts and jeans.
I used to wear make-up and dresses and skirts, etc. But the older I get, the more I realize comfort is my “style.”
My poor granddaughters just shake their heads as they pull on their versions of T-shirts and jeans. They’re a tad different than mine.
• My youngest brother Danny came this weekend to work on his “Danny Do” list.
I’d planned for him to replace my door knobs on the outside doors and to replace the kitchen faucet.
He couldn’t do the door knobs as I’d bought the wrong kind.
After lots of muttering and dropped gaskets and more muttering to himself, I now have a new, tall faucet with a pull-out hose.
Now to get him back and replace those knobs and, and, and...
The list keeps growing.
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