Huge Cleaning Day 2011
I tell you what, after a FULL day of pulling stuff out of nooks and crannies and corners and shelves and boxes (that haven't been opened in three moves) I am feeling good! We can actually park one car in our (two car) garage, it's amazing! I tried to evaluate what I consider precious, and for what reason, and after it was all said and done, after HUGE amounts of stuff were set out on our curb for Salvation Army (or whomever so desires) one thing became very clear to me - I am a sucker for monograming. What in the world?
I had no problem putting sweet little shoes and tiny little newborn socks into the bag, but, Lord help me, if it had an A for Addie anywhere on it I held onto it for dear life! Burp cloths. Who keeps burp clothes? They clean up our baby's snot and semi-digested puke. But slap TROY across the bottom in a cute font with a ribbon and there is NO WAY I can part with such a dear thing. A tattered cloth tote, worn at the seams with holes in the corners, obviously trash except it has BENJAMIN stitched along the top, SAVED PILE. I couldn't help myself. It has a name on it, it's so personal. I'm not just throwing out Mia's onesie I'm throwing out a piece of Mia! Holy smokes I had to let. stuff. go. Let it go! I held onto a few things I think the kids will enjoy seeing one day (or at least the boys' wives will) but I had to draw the line at monogramed plasticware, am I right?
As I was torturing myself with whether or not I should keep certain items I kept one of my lifelong goals pictured in my head: When I die I think it'd be hilarious to tow an open and empty U-Haul trailer behind my hearse with a sign hanging down that says, "You can't take it with you." Wouldn't that be awesome? I suppose the only place a monogrammed name matters is in the book of life (Rev.21:27). . . no Pottery Barn catalog can offer that, now can it?
I had no problem putting sweet little shoes and tiny little newborn socks into the bag, but, Lord help me, if it had an A for Addie anywhere on it I held onto it for dear life! Burp cloths. Who keeps burp clothes? They clean up our baby's snot and semi-digested puke. But slap TROY across the bottom in a cute font with a ribbon and there is NO WAY I can part with such a dear thing. A tattered cloth tote, worn at the seams with holes in the corners, obviously trash except it has BENJAMIN stitched along the top, SAVED PILE. I couldn't help myself. It has a name on it, it's so personal. I'm not just throwing out Mia's onesie I'm throwing out a piece of Mia! Holy smokes I had to let. stuff. go. Let it go! I held onto a few things I think the kids will enjoy seeing one day (or at least the boys' wives will) but I had to draw the line at monogramed plasticware, am I right?
As I was torturing myself with whether or not I should keep certain items I kept one of my lifelong goals pictured in my head: When I die I think it'd be hilarious to tow an open and empty U-Haul trailer behind my hearse with a sign hanging down that says, "You can't take it with you." Wouldn't that be awesome? I suppose the only place a monogrammed name matters is in the book of life (Rev.21:27). . . no Pottery Barn catalog can offer that, now can it?
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