Closet Cleanup
I spent the early afternoon listening to football and cleaning out one of our clothes closets and the dreaded linen closet. Talk about fun!
Actually, I do take a real measure of satisfaction in throwing out and rearranging stuff so that in the former case you can now find and reach all the shoes that have been littering the floor and in the latter, you can conclude that—since you’re finally able to see all the packages of them that had been buried under empty Band-aid boxes—you probably won’t have to buy dental floss for a couple years at least.
It’s amazing too me how stuff piles up and accumulates, no matter what it seems you do. Jen and I each probably take a turn or two every few months with the linen closet; still, it consistently becomes the warehouse for half full prescription bottles, discarded tubes of hand cream, dozens of random throat lozenges, and a seemingly endless supply of the aforementioned complementary packages of dental floss give to us by our dentist.
It’s almost as bad as the refrigerator, which has the strange habit of multiplying single-serving containers of yogurt, or the freezer, which seems to be a breeding ground for half-opened bags of edamame.
Oddly, it’s not as if we’re a family that tends to make indiscriminate purchases of things we don’t need; still somehow, the odds and ends continue to multiply. A good half of the junk I tossed out today was like travel-sized versions of lotion and toothpaste leftover from hotel visits, or free samples given to us by stores or in a birthday goodie-bag. Somehow, it all ends up in the closet, “just in case” we ever need it, but we never do.
What’s scary is that I’m probably harboring just as much stuff in the closets of my mind and emotions, and while I might take on the linen closet twice annually, the stuff up there never gets touched.
Actually, I do take a real measure of satisfaction in throwing out and rearranging stuff so that in the former case you can now find and reach all the shoes that have been littering the floor and in the latter, you can conclude that—since you’re finally able to see all the packages of them that had been buried under empty Band-aid boxes—you probably won’t have to buy dental floss for a couple years at least.
It’s amazing too me how stuff piles up and accumulates, no matter what it seems you do. Jen and I each probably take a turn or two every few months with the linen closet; still, it consistently becomes the warehouse for half full prescription bottles, discarded tubes of hand cream, dozens of random throat lozenges, and a seemingly endless supply of the aforementioned complementary packages of dental floss give to us by our dentist.
It’s almost as bad as the refrigerator, which has the strange habit of multiplying single-serving containers of yogurt, or the freezer, which seems to be a breeding ground for half-opened bags of edamame.
Oddly, it’s not as if we’re a family that tends to make indiscriminate purchases of things we don’t need; still somehow, the odds and ends continue to multiply. A good half of the junk I tossed out today was like travel-sized versions of lotion and toothpaste leftover from hotel visits, or free samples given to us by stores or in a birthday goodie-bag. Somehow, it all ends up in the closet, “just in case” we ever need it, but we never do.
What’s scary is that I’m probably harboring just as much stuff in the closets of my mind and emotions, and while I might take on the linen closet twice annually, the stuff up there never gets touched.
posted by Professor Dave at 3:49 PM
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