I'm cleaning out my room...finally!
Sadly, it becomes the catchall when I can't figure out where I want to put things I don't want in my living room. My cleaning philosophy tends to be: keep the places company would see clean enough for, well, company. The rest will wait until I have time. Someday.
Today is someday. I'm sick of looking at the two TVs, the laundry, the shoes spilling out of the closet, the papers piled up on the dresser, and....the dust bunnies are laughing at me!
I pulled everything out of my closet. I vacuumed the floor, even the baseboards. I put back only the articles of clothing I have worn or can concieveably see myself wearing. Seriously, ya'll. I haven't bought a stitch of new clothes in probably a year (until my awesome score last week). Where did all these clothes come from?
Everything I pulled off the hanger I asked myself if someone else may like better. Like the long, sheer brown tunic. I don't remember where I got it, but I could see myself looking all tropical and exotic in it. I have no bottoms for it. It's too sheer to wear as a dress. And since I rarely shop....there it hung, waiting on some kind of bottoms to magically materialize. Which hasn't happened yet., and I've had it at least a year. Maybe two. Yeah....it had to go.
Three bags of clothes. How does a woman who hates to shop come up with three bags of unloved clothing?
Wait. Don't answer that. I already know. Somewhere in one of those bags is a long golden-brownish skirt, made of sweater material. It's kind of stretchy (important to note, because I've worn it many times through the years as I gained and then lost about 30 pounds. Sadly, it still fits.). I traded my sister for the matching green one because she liked it better. In 1992.
Please don't call Hoarders. Yet.
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