Just how many shoes does one woman need? Apparently 19 fewer than were taking up my precious closet space yesterday. That still leaves me 29 pairs, including classic black pumps, Dansko wedges, Vibram barefoot running shoes, plaid Rocketdogs, and, of course, my Doc Martens.
For some people (men) shoes are just utilitarian. They have one pair for work and one for play. Some people are classy and just have a few really expensive pairs. But I buy shoes like I buy t-shirts, funky bracelets, or winter caps, that is, if it gives me that special happy feeling then it is welcome to join the family.
You know what else gives me a happy feeling? Getting rid of clutter. And since we are moving in two weeks I have been getting rid of lots of junk. Hence the 19 pairs of shoes stepping out to join some Goodwill shopper’s happy family.
As I am bagging things up to give away or throw out I am wondering why I have so much clutter. I blame it on having a big house. We have TWO rooms in the basement just for storage. They are like a giant version of those dumping ground drawers we all have in the kitchen. When we lived in a small apartment, space was at a premium and we couldn’t afford the clutter. But, over the last four years, it has been all too easy just to relocate rarely used kitchen utensils, old video game systems, and VHS tapes into the “coal room” in the basement. The coal room: a mausoleum for useless and obsolete items.
And speaking of useless, why do I still have bras in my underwear drawer? I mean, I have a few mastectomy bras, but I really don’t need to be hanging on to old push-up bras or demi-cups. I haven’t needed those since last December. Oh yeah, and those extra panties that I only wore once a month, you know, our grungerwear? I tossed those too, since I am officially in menopause. While I was at it I got rid of the jeans that were 3 sizes too small, because this is my body now and when I do lose weight I can reward myself by buying some new jeans. (And maybe some new shoes too.)
Hopefully I will have the energy to keep this purging up and not find myself, the day before the movers arrive, emptying whole drawers of mystery keys, broken rubber bands, and single batteries into boxes labeled “Kitchen Items.”