“Less is more.”
“If you haven’t used it in over a year, it’s junk.”
The irony is that once you throw it away, you are looking for it the following week. “It” meaning that rotating tie rack, which by the way, you never took out of the box.
I decided to clean out our closet. “Our” closet, meaning mine and my husband’s. I cleared out ten bags of old shoes, purses, sweaters, t-shirts, shorts and dresses which I hadn’t worn in years. I brought them to the Goodwill box. The stuff I didn’t need was now the property of somebody else’s stuff that they desperately needed.
I asked my husband to do the same thing. I expected twice as many bags of clothing out of his section of the closet. This is due to the fact that my husband’s clothes, shoes, socks, underwear, t-shirts are all strategically categorized, labeled and take up three quarters of the closet.
(Picture me in a peasant outfit sitting in the corner of the closet while my husband tosses me a morsel of stale bread). Do you feel sorry for me yet?
Upon both of us standing in the closet, he pulled out one shelf of t-shirts and threw a bunch in the bag.
“What do you mean, you’re done?” You own three quarters of this space and you only threw away a few t-shirts? What about….
End of that conversation.
So, the pants that are so meticulously pleated and hanging in our closet with three inches of dust on them are a part of his rotating wardrobe. Ok, Carrie Bradshaw. I see how it is.
The man can’t part with anything – even magazines. I think he still has every single copy of “Plane and Pilot” ever mailed to him. You’d think they were Playboy magazines, for christ sake. When I asked him the purpose for keeping them he said, “You never know when I’ll need some information out of them.” I wouldn’t have put it past him of indexing them with his label maker either because he’s that anal.
After I cleared out the closet (mostly my stuff and sweat labor), I went downstairs into the basement. There were alot of old shoes with dust on them. Looking like they hadn’t been worn since we moved in, I gave them to Goodwill. I knew that these were my son’s shoes that no longer fit him. (remember this part).
The other day, my husband asks where his boots are. I said, “What boots?” He said, “The ones I kept in the basement.” I said, “You mean the ones with three inches of dust on them? Those were Matt’s so I got rid of them.”
“They weren’t Matt’s. They were mine.”
“Well, I don’t know what boots you’re talking about then.”
“You threw out my shoes!”
“No! I didn’t!”
So, this past weekend, I bought him some indoor/outdoor slippers for him. He told me he was going to put his name on them with his label maker.
I am now calling him, “Carrie.”