Out of the closet

“Will I ever wear this hat?” I ask, holding up a bright pink Race Girl bucket hat.

“I sure hope not,” says Jim.
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That was yesterday morning.

My side of the closet was looking decidedly Sanford & Son-ish since, in a completely unexpected development, Jim decided to clean and organize his half last weekend.

As the ‘neat’ one of the two of us, I couldn’t stand it.

So despite Take It Easy directives from the chiropractor, the orthopedic surgeon and the physical therapist, I dove in.
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For some reason, a Hard Rock Café London shirt worn only twice in five years stays in the closet.

But a ‘No Worries’ t-shirt from Australia goes on the Good Will pile because of its weird color and even weirder collar.

An ugly pair of what-the-hell-was-I-thinking shoes goes on the pile.

And a tiny little jean skirt that I haven’t worn since college stays – a sad homage to the silly part of my brain that still believes my ass will squeeze into it again someday.

Each thing pulled off a hanger or off a shelf is a memory – where did I wear this, when did I get this, why why why did I ever buy this?

And of course, will I ever wear this again?
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There’s a story behind the bad Race Girl hat.

We were at the drag races down in Joliet with our good friends Steve and Judy. There was a lot of alcohol involved, a bribed and bumpy ride on a golf cart, capped off by a tornado.

Remembering how I got that hat makes it hard to give it up because it would be like giving away all the memories from that day.
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I’ve heard that if you haven’t worn something in more than a year, you should get rid of it.

Why do we hang on to things we rarely wear? And what’s the one piece of clothing you just can’t give up?

Mine is a ginormous tattered yellow Eddie Bauer sweatshirt that I appropriated from Jim before we were married. It was a comforty thing I’d wear whenever he went out of town.

Now soft and worn, the sweatshirt is part of what he calls my ‘uniform’ – the comfy, cuddly duds I wear whenever we’re on the couch and staying in for the night.
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By 10 a.m. my lower back was singing Ring of Fire, but my side of the closet was looking good and the Good Will pile on the floor had turned into a mountain.

A mountain of memories to be passed on to someone else.

Except for the bad pink hat. I’m keeping that.
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I am listening to: The The - This Is The Day
I am reading: Steinberg in the Sun-Times
And I am: Ouchy