the circle of life.

I take my throwaways to the thrift store. It's only fair, and I would be some kind of hypocrite if I threw them away or some kind of person with no space at all if I just kept it. I periodically go through my stuff; there's no scheduled time, just whenever I'm avoiding a particularly big project or I get bored enough to actually part with my things.

It's hard, really it is. The t-shirts are the worst. I love my t-shirts, probably unhealthily so. And I have to get rid of some really great ones. You have to be perfect to make it into the rotation of use. Let your size be off by just a little bit and you won't get worn. Many a good t-shirt has been passed along to the roommates or Casey or taken back to a thrift store. Then I see them on a roommate and I say, "Why did I let them have that?" But I have to do the t-shirts more often than anything else, because they are what I buy the most, and I just don't have the room to keep t-shirts I never wear. It is indeed a hard fact of life. My life is so difficult.

I take them out of the drawer in little piles and make more little piles. I refold them as I go, since they've gotten a little out of whack from being in the drawer. I make a stack of things that I definitely will keep. Then there is another stack of shirts that may not make it back into the drawer. It's the sad stack. After I put all the shirts that made it back into the drawer, I go through the sad stack and make the final cut, sometimes trying my own shirts on to remember how they fit to aid in my ultimate decision. Some of those shirts have been in the sad stack five or six times, but always make it back into the drawer.

But every once in a while, I have to look through the other clothes, too. Particularly the closet clothes, as I tend to run out of hangers. I know which things I haven't worn, but that doesn't mean I may not ever wear them. Today, I picked up a sweater, and this actual scene occured in my bedroom.

"Why did I buy this? This is ugly."

(short pause, examining sweater)

"Well, I might wear it someday."

(puts sweater back in closet.)

(end scene.)

It really is an ugly sweater, but it still is in my closet. I bought it fairly recently, at a bag sale, I think, and I am still giving it a chance to become lovely.

Ashley watched me go through the t-shirts this evening. I gave her a couple that were a little small. She listened to me and laughed, because I could name off where I got pretty much every single thing. "I got this in Kansas. I got this at a yard sale in Lenoir. I got this at the flea market in Rutherfordton. I got this in Atlanta", etc. It went on for quite a while. Had I thought she was interested, I might have been able to tell how much I paid for each one as well. And yet I can't remember who ordered the decaf coffee at a table of two.

So I've done another cleaning. I put the stuff in a bag, asked Nick and Ashley for their contributions, and made a list of everything in the bag. Then I take the stuff to the thrift store of my choice and give Mama the list for tax purposes. So all the stuff eventually comes back to the thrift store so some other freak can buy it and not wear it either.

Someday, somewhere I know this will happen. I will see one of my things at thrift store after I have donated it. And I will buy back my own item from said thrift store. And then I will know that I am indeed a very sad kind of person.