Spring is coming. I can feel it in my bones. Also, I look
out of a lot of windows. I. Am. So. Excited! If I could do cartwheels as a
gesture of that excitement, I would. But I can’t. In addition to being a
hopeless potential cartwheeler (cartwheelee?), I am also a hopeless potential
spring cleaner.
Every year I want to spring clean. Every year I face the
same issues. In my head, my spring cleaning project goes something along the
lines of this: get together everything I own, and burn it. I’m only halfway kidding.
I seriously have so much…stuff. Just random, space stealing…stuff. While some
of my things are valuable to me, such as my computer, my reading chair, and a
super adorable cowboy hat, other items are not as useful. As in, I have boxes
of things that I don’t look at, wear, admire, utilize, lend, or do much of
anything with. And yet, they stay.
Because at that critical moment, the one where you have the
garbage bag in your left hand, and all actual garbage is already in the bag and
now you’re holding an old pair of 3D movie glasses in your right hand, and your
arm is swaying back and forth between the garbage bag and the shelf, at that
moment, I crumble. 3D glasses are a keeper. I might need them someday in a really
odd situation, and quite frankly I feel security in knowing that. Odd
situations are my forte.
Clothes are a beast unto themselves. I can stare into my
closet for hours and come up with nothing to wear. Then I could look in my
drawers, in my other closet, on my floor, anything hanging on doorknobs, and
come to the same conclusion. Possible solutions: Get new clothes? Yes. Get more
clothes? Yes. Replace old clothes and then throw old ones away? Nope. There’s
always the chance I would want to wear it the very day after I get rid of it.
True story. What can I say? I like options. And also, by default, I apparently
like laundry. A lot of it.
My inability to throw things out is ridiculous. My power to
form such a strong and overwhelming connection to previously ignored items is a
little bit impressive. I like being impressive. I can stand being ridiculous. I
am my own downfall. I’ve decided to share with you some items that were on the
chopping block, but were miraculously saved their imminent demise by yours truly.
The trouble that comes from loving to create art and also
being quite terrible at the actual art portion, is that I wind up keeping all
my own stuff. It’s never good enough to give to anyone (people that I want to
like me anyway), but it’s never bad enough (in my own opinion) to toss out.
Which is why this elephant will be staying with me.
Cards. I am that person. I go into an establishment, and
walk out with their card. Even if I never return, I have a memento of my time
spent there. It’s fun! You get to give them your junk email address that you
never check, and they give you a shiny plastic thing that earns points for
free! Or a card for a free something or other, after you purchase a gazillion
of them. Hurray! The thing is, if I got rid of these, then I would just want to
go to those places, and I’d be pissed that I threw away proof that I’d already
bought two loaves of bread there, and that they no longer count in my quest for
a free loaf!
Peanut Butter Santas. Yes, these are from Christmastime. But
these are my “this-day-has-been-horrendous-and-I –walked-uphill-both-ways-in-the-snow-with-no-shoes-and-there-is-no-remaining-chocolate-within-reach-and-I-could-possibly-die-without-it”
peanut butter Santas. It’s like a chubby white girl’s version of a 72 hour
emergency kit. They’re like a hug waiting to happen.
A green, plastic bathtub. Now, I actually use this a lot. To
hold things, like cords and stuff. If it were bigger, I would totally use it as
a real bathtub, no question. This is
something I would never even think of getting rid of. When I got it as a gift,
it had lots of fancy lotions and such inside of it, which were super. But the
highlight? The bathtub. I think I squealed a little. Or a lot. Whatever. Don’t
judge me.
Anyway, my point is that I’m sort of a hoarder. But like, a
little one. A little baby hoarder, who doesn’t mean any harm at all. And also,
I probably could benefit from professional help. Until then though, until that
critical juncture is reached, and I’m wading through stacks of yellowing
newspapers to get to the door and my clothing capacity resembles a badly
organized thrift store, until then...I’m okay. I think. If I do attempt spring
cleaning this year (I will) and throw something out (I probably won’t) I think
everyone should get together and throw me a party. With balloons, and those
cute little sandwiches. Maybe I’ll throw something out just for that!
