good weekend! My step-mom Amy and her husband Tim had just made a looping tour of the midwest and stopped in to visit me for the weekend. We had a lovely time talking and catching up, eating, and generally just hanging out. Tim and Amy got some time to explore Appleton while I was at a wedding. They also actually had some successful clothes shopping experiences, which I can’t help but find admirable.
We talked quite a bit about what would stay and what would go with this whole Liberia transition. The general plan at this point: selling/giving away the furniture and most of the toys (bike, skis, motorcycle), along with most of the winter clothes, many of the books and other stuff that is almost more “simplify your life” stuff than anything. Things that would be hard to replace, or things for which I’ve saved up to get something precise, would go into storage (mementos from my Grandma & Dad, cooking stuff, antique books, and so on). [Joy – any idea on what I’ll want for cooking/baking stuff in Liberia??].
Part of the original activity plan was to hit the Farmer’s Market in Appleton on Saturday morning – it was the first one of the summer and believe it or not I’ve never made it to an Appletonian Farmer’s Market! That plan changed, though, when Amy took a look at my closet. It wasn’t that it was messy, per se. It was squunched. (Hmm, now that I think of it I really should have taken before and after pictures.) And Amy knows me well: for whatever reason dealing with clothes just overwhelms me. In an ideal life I would never think about clothes at all – I’d wear a jumpsuit or a perfectly cute-and-comfortable outfit would just be there waiting for me every time I’d hop out of the shower. Amy’s put up with me clothes shopping, so I suppose she felt it was time to earn more jewels in her crown or something. Or maybe she just likes suffering! At any rate, she proposed skipping the Farmer’s Market and helping me go through my closet to make decisions about stuff.
I think I struggle because I hate feeling that I’ve spent money on something that I haven’t used to the “completely worn out” stage. And living alone, it’s just plain hard to be sure that something really should be jettisoned without solid moral support. So she patiently waded with me, hanger by hanger, through the entire closet. Ooof! I was – of course – quite crabby and miserable, but she knows me well enough to just laugh at my scrunchy faces and keep on pushing.
You wouldn’t believe how freeing it is - nor how happy I am that it’s done! Now I “get” to decide what to do with all the clothes! Suggestions?