The Monster Under the Bed

Something interesting happened in my kitchen this week, though it probably wouldn’t have been to anybody else but me. I was washing the dishes when I dropped a ceramic pitcher in my sink and it cracked. The pitcher was a housewarming gift, went beautifully with my serving dishes and I loved using it. I used to get really upset when I broke anything, particularly so when it was something I really loved. But that night I just shrugged, set it by the trash can and told myself I could find another. I’m sure I’ll be able to find something at the thrift store, Marshall’s or Ikea. I kind of thought that by getting rid of my things I’d become more attached to what’s left, but now I’m realizing for the most part it’s just stuff.

Anyways, onto the monster under the bed, aka the large Rubbermaid and the giant suitcase stuffed with clothes that didn’t fit in my dresser that I shoved under my bed. I pulled them out, dusted them off, opened them up and decided that just like the pitcher I just didn’t care anymore. I doubled the amount of clothes in the trash bag, and filled more bags of clothing to take to the consignment and thrift stores.

What did I keep out of all those clothes? 3 pairs of pants that are a size too small, that I hope to fit into in the next few months, and 2 pairs of hiking pants.

Now what do I do with a giant duffle and an empty Rubbermaid container?


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