A postcard came in the mail that a charity would be in our neighborhood picking up donations this week so I went through some drawers and boxes to fill a couple of bags to donate. One of the things that went into the bag was a t-shirt I’d gotten from the Greg Biffle Foundation. I still support the cause, but I’d never worn the shirt since it’s made to fit a much smaller person. (I was perhaps suffering from delusions about how successful I’d be at weight loss at the time I filled in my size on the form.) I’m not sure when, if ever, I will be that size, so I didn’t need the shirt taking up space that could be filled with a shirt I can wear. Why I was able to come to this conclusion now and not any of the other times I’ve gone through that drawer, I’m not sure. I guess that’s why decluttering has to be an ongoing process rather than a “once and done” project. Also into the bag: t-shirt commemorating a NASCAR race in 1994, when I was still in my NASCAR phase (yes, I had a NASCAR phase). I did not go to this race because the person I worked with who thought she could get me tickets did not get them, but I decided to buy myself a shirt anyway. That it’s still in good enough shape to donate after all these years tells you how infrequently I wore (and thus washed) it. I also put another tee from that same era in the bag; that one had my employer at the time’s logo on it and tied into a promotional effort that we were pushed to participate in. I don’t have especially good memories of that job so I have no clear idea why I held onto the shirt this long. I can’t recall last time I wore that one. The next shirt I put in was a gift from a friend I met when I worked at that not fondly remembered employer. She got for me when she went to Turkey on vacation, and I wore it now and then but haven’t had it on since our friendship evaporated (we lived in different states, and neither of us worked for the company we’d met at anymore, and this was long before social media took off). Seeing it in the drawer just reminded me how we were no longer friends. Again, not sure why I was holding onto it. What I am sure of is that it will take me forever to pare my possessions down to a reasonable mass if I keep pausing to tell stories about every item I’m saying goodbye to. The sad part of all this is the truck didn’t come: the bags were right where I’d left them in the driveway until I brought them in at 9 o’clock that night, so the stuff I was getting rid of is still in my house. That’s not at all encouraging.
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