I’ve
never been a chotchky person, you know… someone who puts cutesy things on
shelves that they’ve collected or photos of their family all over the walls. I
have zero stuff like that. When I have received stuff like that as gifts, I am
sad because I know that I will be getting rid of it as soon as I can. One time
someone bought me a wooden sailboat with a scripture printed on the sail. They
knew I was a Christian and walked into a Christian store and bought this
“thing” for me believing in some naïve way that anything Christian would make
me happy and satisfy their obligation to give a gift. Ugh.
Shouldn’t
there be a rule? Don’t buy perfume, books, music, clothing or collectibles for
someone unless they specifically ASK for it? But I digress.
So,
it’s not collectible thimbles from pancake houses around the world that I
simply cannot part with. That is not my problem. Forgive me if you do that. I
can’t stand that sort of thing.
My problem is the
accumulation of crapitude.
One
reason that has been the bane of my life- for what seems for forever- is that I
have four children that are really widely spaced in ages. Not a problem, of
course. The problem is that it goes girl, boy, girl, boy. Hand me downs then
are then held a long time in boxes in my garage waiting for the next
appropriate gender child to grow enough. After a child is done with the clothes
in their size, I get rid of my non-favorites and nonessentials. The rest go
into a plastic tote to store. I often ask myself why would I hold a box for so
long? I could, in theory, get rid of all of it and then re-buy all of it later.
I can’t bring myself to do it. The expense of it is so high in my mind!
Clearly
I am not ready to cross the purge bridge with my hand me downs. Maybe soon that
will change.
