I spent yesterday cleaning out our linen closet. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had found Jimmy Hoffa‘s body in there. It really is one of those closets that, in the rare instance that I had to put something into it, I would give the item a strong shove and close the door before it came flying back at me.
I can’t even tell you how many bath towels were in that closet. For whatever reason, bath towels are one of those things that I can’t seem to throw away. I get tired of the old towels, maybe ready for a new color. So I buy new towels, but can’t convince myself to throw the old ones away. I may have company and need towels, I might think. Or, you never know when one of the grandkids might want to go swimming and need a towel, I’ll think, despite the fact that we don’t have a swimming pool. Hence, a mountain of towels.
Tablecloths. Sigh. Not only do I have a mountain of tablecloths that I will be sending to Goodwill, there are three or four that I was unable to give away. They’re too pretty, and they fit on a small round table, something I’m liable to own when we downsize. The reality is that there was a time when I really did use tablecloths. I entertained. I had dinner parties. I hosted an annual summer formal tea. Our children came to our house for Thanksgiving and Easter and Christmas Eve and New Years Day. Each event required its own tablecloth.
Unlike towels, I apparently am completely comfortable tossing or giving away bed sheets. The other night, I was laying in bed reading, when my foot felt a tear in the bed sheet. Oh oh, I thought. I had no spare sheets. Luckily I had ordered new sheets from J.C. Penney, and they arrived the next day. Though there were no sheets in my linen closet, I had a plethora of pillow cases. Go figure. I threw most of them in the Goodwill bag. However, my mother had embroidered a set of pillowcases for me many moons ago, and those I was unable to give up.
I can only tackle one clean-out a day. It’s too overwhelming if I do any more than that. Part of it is nostalgia. However, quite frankly, part of it is just pure depression over how many things I own that I don’t need, don’t use, and don’t want. How did I let this happen?
Next task is my pantry. I wonder how many cans of expired food I will find in there. Will I find any small appliances that I don’t even remember buying? I’m already reminding myself that I will have far less counter space than I have now, and my appliances all have large footprints. Can I live with a two-slotted toaster instead of the four-slotted toaster we now own? Will my Kitchenaid Pro warrant a spot of my precious counter space?
These are all questions that will be answered in the next few months.