Ah yes, the world famous club of stuff that owns you. Thanks to a buying binge many years ago, I bought tops, blouses, slinky undies etc. The slinky stuff is gone now, since I never wore it and um..kind of outgrew some of it (my Gawd was I really that tiny???) Most of that sort of stuff went into the collection bins set up around town for gently used clothing (the thongs went into cloth recycling - what the hell was I thinking of? But I have enough tops to last me the rest of my life.
And it's not just my stuff. I live in the house I grew up in. My late parents also belonged to the club. Especially my dad who lived through the Great Depression and hoarded anything potentially useful. He was a ham radio enthusiast, and his old equipment is still down in his workshop along with old vacuum tubes, jars of nails and pieces of wood for projects that never materialized.
As my grandmother ran a shoe repair shop for many years, some of her stuff got collected by my father as 'potentially useful'. There's an old granny rocker, with a cracked seat as the wood has dried out quite a bit. There's the battered old sewing machine for shoes (treadled operated) and a cast iron form for repairing shoes which feels like it weighs forty pounds at least. Enough of this stuff is old enough so I think a local auction house will be interested in it (along with the radio equipment) and I will finally get rid of it.
Part of the problem, I think, is the sentimental value of some of the stuff. But some of it seems to cling to you like plastic wrap even though it has no real value to you. And then there's that nagging little thought...'I might need that someday'....
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And it's not just my stuff. I live in the house I grew up in. My late parents also belonged to the club. Especially my dad who lived through the Great Depression and hoarded anything potentially useful. He was a ham radio enthusiast, and his old equipment is still down in his workshop along with old vacuum tubes, jars of nails and pieces of wood for projects that never materialized.
As my grandmother ran a shoe repair shop for many years, some of her stuff got collected by my father as 'potentially useful'. There's an old granny rocker, with a cracked seat as the wood has dried out quite a bit. There's the battered old sewing machine for shoes (treadled operated) and a cast iron form for repairing shoes which feels like it weighs forty pounds at least. Enough of this stuff is old enough so I think a local auction house will be interested in it (along with the radio equipment) and I will finally get rid of it.
Part of the problem, I think, is the sentimental value of some of the stuff. But some of it seems to cling to you like plastic wrap even though it has no real value to you. And then there's that nagging little thought...'I might need that someday'....
JLfromNH