Some people do it when lilacs blossom, some people do it when autumn leaves fall, and some really ambitious people do it as part of every Saturday chore list!
Me? I schedule major “clean it up, throw it out” Spring cleaning sessions each fall, whether needed or not.
Many of us think the New Year really begins in September when school bells ring. Just like kids armed with sharpened pencils, fresh notebooks, and enough stick-it notes to paper Los Angeles, each September, I set out to take inventory of what I have, what I need, and what I should give or throw away.
Some things I own keep getting re-cycled to live in the niches of my closet. I just can’t seem to part with a favorite dress I haven’t worn since high school, a pair of shoes I never wear, and a certain piece of jewelry I have never worn and will probably never wear – ever!
I also own a funky flower vase and heavy ornate paper weight – their sole purpose is to collect dust, lots of it. They live in my hall closet and never see the light of day, except once a year during my annual ritual.
Everybody has stuff, usually a lot of it, which just keeps lingering on.
Why does this happen? Shouldn’t we be excited to toss old stuff, if for no other reason than to make room for yet more tchotchkes or the latest fashions?
Yeah, you’d think so, but usually my throw-it-all-out effort goes something like this . . . I carefully examine each treasure after pulling it from its hiding place. Then, with a touch of drama, I clutch the item to my breast as a moony grin spreads over my face. Soon a beautiful movie plays in my mind as I recall how important this “thing” once was to me. With a smile, and maybe a tear or two, I remember how this treasure came to be part of the weavings of my life, who gave it to me, and what wonderful things happened because of it.
How could I possibly trash such a treasure or give it to someone who would never know its tale? Never! Never! Never!
After years of feeling guilty for keeping old things, I realized I wasn’t just giving or throwing away “things,” I was forcing myself to toss memories. So, back in the closet my tangible remembrances would go.
