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(For FLYLADY
enthusiasts...my Closet Fling)
Closet
The word closet can scare some of the
bravest of “flyers’ into submission. We close the doors (if we can) and use it
as a storage room to say best. Some of us find out that we have even gotten as
far as using it as the “Magic Looking Glass”, trying to make our past our
future. Sorry…can’t!
So now, as I approach 50, I have
accumulated lots of “Stuff” (and those of you my age think of George Carlin’s
Comedy routine about our Stuuuffff). No, I am fluttering here and not flying. I am not
free of my stufffff. However, I posted 1837 pounds when I moved, and am still
fluttering the best I can. You know…jumping in where I am today! And guess
what? That leads us to the day I cleaned my closet.
I will explain the setting so you
understand better where I am coming from. An early century house with little to
no closets; so of course our play/work outdoor set of overalls and boots fit,
one set of apparel for church, and one to go to town in. Then we have a few small
dressers that we saved in the horrific move. Those are filled to capacity. So
that leads us to Mt. Washmore as we call it. You know the one you move from the
laundry room, do not fold and are stacked on your dressers. This is not just
weekly accumulation. In addition you have every sheet, towel, cloth, curtain,
napkin and under wear to socks for the last twelve years! Now add two kids, 3
dogs (one Great Dane For Sale) two White Manx cats, and Warren and Darth Beta
Fish. Lol This is Mt. Everest!
Now picture it, not wanting to do
this but wanting to too, I pull out the first box. This is a huge box of shoes,
boots, purses and misc. closet floor characters. Wondering what I will do with
all the shoes I want to keep as the box is in the way, my second thought is, it
will help me get rid of more.
Okay the first layer contains old
summer shoes, which were easy. My feet will never be pretty and young again, it
is time to fling the strappy little numbers, whether new or shabby and
comfortable. I kept three pair, white, black, and tan.
As I approach the next layer it’s
like a sea of white. This is the zillion pair of white tennis shoes I have
collected over the years. Many yellowed from never being worn, many have cracks
in the leather and called out from the junk pile, “Remember that summer we
spent every single day together?” You know we grow in our relationships, I knew
it was time to stay faithful to my new “backless” tennis shoes that fits my
aging and sore heels. Times change, and so do we. Gravity has a way of insuring
that.
On to those wonderful winter shoes
from years past. The fuzzy boots that were ever so popular 12 years ago, now
look like road kill, and no matter what we did, there could be no revival. The
plastic boots which only had one hole in the top of them, the slick black patent
leathers which possessed almost no shine now, and the all time favorite, those
sweet little white boots we wore with our cutoffs, out to dance, discarded to
the picnic and hiking section then down to the stables. They are no longer
white, but this ruddy color of horse…well you know. All is fair in love and
war. This task was war! As I sold the horse a year ago, I guess I can fling
the boots too-after all.
We are down to the brown pile now.
Each with its dated pointy toes and heels; or just one heel chewed by the dog.
I salvage some grace and ended up saving one pair, and flinging the rest to the
dumpster man.
I sat the box on the scale, and
weighed in at 18 more pounds I can claim freedom to. Next move, there will only
be 16 pair of shoes to pack, not 42.
This week the feet, next…the hats,
gloves, and scarves.
More thoughts on Flinging @ SHE
Works
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