Cleaning Out My Closet
Last Monday I moved into a new apartment, and as I am sure most of you know, moving is a huge hassle. Leaving everything down to the final hour, I rushed through my packing, throwing nearly everything but my tv into trash bags and lugged them down the 5 minute drive to my new residence. It wasn’t until later, when I started unpacking, that I saw how much stuff I really had accumulated over the past three years of living in my old apartment.
Books I have never read, movies I have never watched, and clothes I had yet to wear. I found close to ten shirts that still had their tags on. Now only if I could find the receipts to return them for drinking money….errr….bills.
Since the closet at my new apartment is smaller – much smaller – than my old walk in closet, I decided it would be a great idea to clean it out. Some people have a hard time letting go of people. I have a hard time letting go of clothes. It seemed that every piece of clothing I picked to get rid of told a great story. I know I must seem like a crazy person, but it’s true. Aren’t there clothes in your closet you can’t let go of because you wore it when something extraordinary happened? (Just nod yes and agree).
The shoes I wore for a themed Halloween party, the tie I wore at my niece’s kindergarten graduation, the blue button down shirt I wore when I had my first date here in Orlando. All, dumb enough, mean something to me. The shoes are pink and yellow, the tie is ripped, and that blue button down shirt definitely doesn’t fit anymore. They are the equivalent of pictures in a frame. Each memory on those tacky orange hangers (sale at Target) remind me of all the fun times and experiences I have had, and to get rid of them would just be like having an eternal sunshine of the spotless mind moment – minus the blue hair.
So, to deal with my situation, realizing there wasn’t a sock that could be thrown away, I decided to make an investment and buy a nice, sturdy dresser. Well, an Ikea dresser, anyway. And once I finish putting it together (its been laying in the living room for three days now, half done) I will store my memories in there like a scrap book or photo album, where if I ever need to be reminded of great moments of my past, it is just a drawer away. And for all those new memories to come, well, that’s what credit cards are for.
