Tuesday, May 07, 2013
I decided over the weekend that the laundry baskets of clean clothing I have been avoiding for over a month needed to be sorted (Yes, I know, I procrastinate when it comes to putting laundry away). I have been avoiding it for several reasons.
First of all, I needed to rearrange my closet to make everything fit. That was not a task I was ready to complete because it would involve more time and $$ than I have available at the moment. It also would have involved far more brain power than I was willing to expend as there are still many of my late husband's things in there that I am not yet ready to release (favorite sweater, wedding clothes, uniform, etc.).
The second reason for avoidance of the task is that I really wasn't ready to go through my clothes to get rid of what no longer fits. I envisioned a dump truck load of 3X - 5X clothing making its way down the street, knocking various and sundry obstacles out of its way. Naturally, it was an exaggeration in my mind, but I was concerned that all I would have left was a dozen pairs of knickers that fit, some passable bras, and a few pieces of adaptable street clothes I might be able to coordinate into outfits...and I was not far from wrong. The only exception to that short list was the 3 or 4 workout pieces I have recently purchased so I don't embarrass myself at the gym.
As I began the flurry of activity that became the “great laundry clean-out,” I found myself being kind of ruthless in my determination of what could be salvaged and what needed to find new homes. With very few exceptions (even with the most loved pieces), I tossed and shoved things into bags. I was 3 yard waste bags into the process when I realized I needed to stop and take a load to the Goodwill Donation Station before I attacked the "laundry yet to be processed" pile.
As I hurked and hauled the 3 enormous bags I had out to my car, my roommate watched me with a bemused expression on his face, but said nothing. The car packed, I left on my mission. When I reached the donation station in the next town down the road, I decided I should probably at least browse around to see if there was anything I liked to replace some of the work clothing I had just donated. I was pleased to find 2 tops that were suitable for work, made my purchase, and headed home.
When I arrived back at the house, I grabbed my small bag from the front seat and headed in. My roommate, who was working in the yard, looked at me (again with a bemused look on his face) and said "I don't think you made out very well in that trade," and laughed. I had to giggle because, looking down at the small bag in my hand (as compared to what actually left the house), it was a strikingly comical difference.