I’m on a purging binge. Wow, that sounds like I’m going overboard with an eating disorder. Let me rephrase. I’ve decided that my house has too much stuff in it and needs to be emptied. Quickly. Okay, that sounds much better.
When I was growing up, I used to save almost everything. Then I got married and found that my husband actually does save everything and suddenly, I was the one who was throwing things out. It’s great he’s sentimental about so many things, and while we may disagree on some of the things he feels the need to get sentimental about, we’ve come to an understanding.
I don’t throw away his stuff. Ever. Not without express permission. And even then, it’s probably better if I just let it be.
But unless we want to move (actually, I kind of do) or build an addition (I definitely don’t), we need to get rid of some stuff. Because we are busting at the seams and I do not want to be featured on Hoarders.
So I’ve started going through things and emptying us out.
And I have to say, despite all the times I make fun of my husband for saving things, I’m just as guilty, if not more so, than he.
My closet was one of the first things I tackled. Do you know that I still had clothes in there from before we were married? Not that I wore any of them, but I still had them. Now, keeping a pair of jeans from high school because I can still fit into them might be considered a matter of pride (a huge fashion faux pas, but a matter of pride nonetheless). But keeping suits I wore to work in the 90s is just ridiculous.
I had piles and piles and piles of stuff from the kids that were shoved in my closet too. Artwork, school papers, projects. I’m not getting rid of those, but there’s no need to keep them in my closet. After organizing them and storing them in bins, and pulling out the extra clothes, and organizing my shoes (nope, not touching those), you’d be amazed at how big my walk-in closet really is. I’m almost tempted to fill it with more stuff.
The next thing I’m going to tackle is my guest room. Actually, that’s a misnomer, since we never have any guests stay there. Let’s call it a storage room, because everything we don’t know what to do with goes there. The dresser is filled with serving pieces, the closet is filled with…I don’t know what. The bed has things on it that I can’t fit anywhere else. Add the floor, which has presents for whatever holiday is coming up and the room is a disaster. So that’s what I’m going to tackle next.
And maybe I’ll find that this house is actually big enough for the four of us. Or even better, I’ll get to go back to making fun of my husband for being the saver in the family.