I have written previously about my tendency to cherish items that really aren’t needed any more.
I deliberately avoid the term ‘hoarder’, as reality TV programmes on the subject might give people the impression that I sleep atop a tower of Burger King boxes. For the record, allow me to clarify: I keep more games, electronics and makeup than I could probably utilise in a lifetime, but I am not at the thousand-dirty-dollies-in-the-garage stage.
Some spend the summer going on vacation, while it’s about the only time of the year when I can get household chores done. It isn’t an ideal time to put things away in the attic, as I could cook pot roasts up there in July. Nonetheless, it had to be done. I got out the ladder – I meant business.
Bags and tubs have been piled high in the ‘office’ for ages. Receptacles I hadn’t investigated in months, possibly years. Logic dictated that if none of them had been opened in that length of time, they probably weren’t vitally important … but it takes a stronger person than I to just chuck, sight unseen. That’s why you need a cold-blooded assistant who has no emotional ties to your belongings.
My best friend and housemate Lynne was, of course, thrilled at the idea of getting rid of the rubbish (treasure) that I had accumulated over the years. I merely had to mention that it might be time for a good clear out and five seconds later she was at my elbow, her little hands swallowed up by large yellow rubber gloves, jumping from foot to foot and ready to ‘help’. The last time I’d seen an expression like that was when I told my hairstylist I was willing to consider a trim. I hang onto split ends like I do my 57 bottles of various body creams that I never use.
The creams and bathroom products were actually the first point of attack. I can’t help it – every time I go into Victoria’s Secret (where those women walk around with tape measures hanging from their necks) or Bath & Body Works, or Macy’s, I find myself buying bottles, jars and amphorae of lovely smelly stuff that promises to make your skin as soft as a stingray’s stomach. Naturally, I always fail to remember that my every pore gets blocked once I apply it, and I end up sweating profusely for the rest of the night. I smell fantastic, but I’m a human waterfall.
I managed to be pretty ruthless with these, and so half-empty bottles of Moonbeam Delight, Heavenly Angel and Warm Vanilla Sunrise went to meet their maker. I put my foot down on the candles. You never know when the whole neighbourhood will lose power indefinitely.
“But Vicki,” Lynne bleated, “are you really ever going to use them?”
“I’m lighting up one tonight!” I announced, determined to bring some Calming Lavender back into our lives. I’d show her.
Shoes were the next for the chopping block, although anything high, shiny, expensive – basically a chiropodist’s nightmare – remained firmly in the ‘staying’ pile. We threw out those that were old, showed wear-and-tear, or were covered in claw marks thanks to the cats.
I also bought one of those under-the-bed storage containers for those that had escaped the executioner’s wrath, although, considering what it did to my knees just to slide them out of sight, I think it’ll be a while before I visit them again. I mean, I practically live in Skechers these days. Do I really think that one night, my fairy godmother will show up and suddenly make walking in 5-inch Louboutins akin to floating on air? But I wasn’t ready. I’ll probably hand them over when I finish my registration for The Pines Retirement Home and start peppering my conversations with words like ‘whippersnappers’.
Clothes were a bit more difficult, and Lynne prepared to dig her heels in. What she failed to grasp, however, is just because I hadn’t worn them once in the last 10 years, didn’t mean I would NEVER wear them. Size 8 dresses from my youth that could now double as one trouser leg, a leather jacket that gave me a cleavage like Elvira if I managed to do the one button up, the green taffeta floor-length skirt that barely accommodated ankles, let alone walking … I stubbornly refused to let any of them go. In the end, we emerged from my closet with a throwaway bounty of about three T-shirts and a pair of gym trousers so holey, I’d need to wear shorts underneath them to remain decent.
It is much easier to tackle a category than individual items. Clothes, shoes, books … I guess it’s because you know that even if you get rid of some, there are others remaining. It’s not a cold turkey situation. When it came to my XBOX (which I recently switched on to find my last game was saved in June 2004 – ‘DOOM 3’, if you must know) I was like a starving pit bull being threatened with the removal of a T-bone.
The idea of it leaving my house without me completing the game was too much to bear. Lynne relented. I kept it.
Before you start thinking that this whole exercise was a waste of time, I’ll say that there were some things I was happy to let go. Into the skip went the sun loungers, now broken in so many places that anyone who cared to sit on them would be instantly lacerated. Old sets of Christmas lights (one of which gave me a nice shock as my finger brushed an exposed bulb in the testing process) were dumped in the trash, along with the two Christmas light checkers/fixers I’d bought – one standard, one deluxe. Would you rather spend three hours squinting at a flashing red light as you check bulb after bulb on a 100-bulb strand, or $15 on a new set? Bin, bin, bin, I say.
Then there were the bags. I’ve never been a handbag kinda gal, but I’d actually managed to accumulate a few over the years. There was one I’d forgotten I had, and I was going to keep it, but Lynne grabbed the strap and we fought over it like a robber and victim before I finally relented. I had to give her something after the XBOX unpleasantness.
And so items slowly left the house and space began to reveal itself. I was even willing to bid farewell to that DVD recorder that hadn’t worked for ages and simply rendered useless any DVD that was fed into its slot. Suddenly, there was a shelf here, a drawer there, and a closet over yonder unfettered by junk, which turned out to be a great thing – ‘cos I’ve just seen something big I HAVE to buy …
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