Maybe it’s the temps flirting with zero degrees, but I was hellfire on cleaning and purging today. The object of my attention was the basement. I brought bins of stuff from my last move (over 3 years) that I haven’t opened since, and that is pretty much text-book criteria for elimination. I watch hoarders. I know what lies on the other side…
There’s bags of trash, and a pile of items to go to eWaste, and stuff that will be freely offered at the curb. I did, however, uncover little troves of treasures–the stuff one carts wherever the destination. Each time I go through it, it gets a little bit smaller. A sweatshirt from 1st-year uni that’s got a scruffy character and great style, even for the 80′s. My name patch from high school cheerleading (makes me laugh every time I realize I was a freakin’ cheerleader). The brass key my grannie gave me on my 21st birthday.
And then there’s the pictures. Somehow I inherited the two family portraits: one that I call the “vampire family”–taken some time in the late 70′s. Seriously, the photographer had to work hard to get the appropriate lighting to drain us of any resemblance to living flesh. The other one is 1982–I’m 14 going on 15, hair curled to perfection, and my sister, mother and I are wearing various 80′s purplish hues in mother-made dresses (there’s a ruffle them to tie them all together), and my father and brother wear tan and blue suits respectively.
All of these things are in the “save” bin.