I was planning on writing about shoes.

I have no wish for a spartan existence. It's important to me that my home be homey and comfortable and unassuming, but I want to find the chord between the two that allows for the things that I have to be seen and loved and used without the white noise of Things Just Taking Up Space.  This is new to me. I come from a long line of pack rats. TIDY pack rats, mind you- but my family has long held the beliefs that if it belonged to somebody deceased it must be kept forever, and if it came from someplace else it must be preserved as proof that you were there.  My home has been said to be decorated in "1970s Al-Qaeda Chic" because of my parents' travels around the Middle East and my father's fondness for brass "little things."  I have my grandmother's bedroom suite, my mother's dining set and living room furniture, my great-great-great grandmother's hutch, another Grandmother's sewing machine, and pictures hanging on some walls of ancestors that I honestly cannot identify without pulling the frame apart to read the writing on the back of the photo.  This has been just fine for a long time but I've kind of gotten over some of the excess that happens when you try to blend your own identity in with the remnants of yesterday.  Some of those remnants are very important - but some, honestly, are not.  It is not a sign of disrespect if I let my Nanny's bathroom towels go away.  Yes- I inherited towels 7 years ago and they've lived with me ever since. I know. Don't judge.

With the exception of my shoes, I've completely overhauled my bedroom closet to contain only clothes that fit me or that are still be one size too small, thanks to EvilSara's generosity. My bathroom is organized and tidy, and I've done a decent job at my bedroom - I now have 3 empty drawers in my grandmother's writing desk and removed an entire dresser.  The pantry is done, and no expired or stale goods remain.  The Frightening Monster of Dad's Bedroom Closet has been tamed, and I donated probably 15 sheets, 20 pillowcases, 3 comforters, and eleventybillion towels to the animal shelter while retaining enough bedding to reasonably outfit every bed in the house twice (including the airmattresses and cots.).  As for the Study.... well, Rome wasn't built in a day.  The study's closet is good, though.  Next up on the list of things to de-clutter and organize* are the Spice Cabinet (!) The Utility Room (!!) and then we'll see where we're at. Baby steps, ya'll.  This project is challenging enough to be difficult but taken in chunks is not so overwhelming that I want to drop it.  I'm actually really kinda digging it a lot.  Who figured?

Anyway- I've told myself that, within reason, there shall be no shopping** until I am fully satisfied that my house is in a state that pleases me- whatever state that is.  This isn't about "clean" so much as being about divesting myself and my abode of excess weight- and things are easier to not bring home than they are to make go away after the fact.

Old habits, though, are hard to break. Witness the internal conversation I've been having with myself for three days:


"Girls' Night Out! New Dress!"
"Seriously? You have like... 5 dresses."
"Yeah, but I've worn them all before. Downtown, even!"
"Wear the black one."
"Don't have shoes."
"Wear the other black one. It goes with boots"
"Wore it last tiiiiime....."
...."I can wear the other one if I go buy SHOES!"
"NO NEW SHOES."
"We never get to do what I want to do."

The kicker here is that I probably could justify new shoes. I've gleaned out about half of my shoe collection, but I still have at least 30 pairs.  Unfortunately, most of them don't fit me, because one of the untold truths of weight loss is that your feet shrink, too.  In the past two years, I've gone from a size 10.5 to an 8.5, but I haven't made myself settle down to the entirely depressing task that would be trying on all of my shoes and honestly evaluating which ones fit and which ones don't.  Until I do- and thus, have a reasonable idea of what I have and don't- I'm not going to buy any new shoes.  If this means that I end up wearing Nikes with a ballgown***- so be it. That might be the motivation I need to weed through my damn shoes.

So here I am, 4 hours before I have to be ready for Girls' Night Out. I have no idea what I'm wearing, and I'm finding that I really don't care. I'm going out with my lovely derby ladies who don't care what I wear as long as I show up.  They've seen me sweat. They've seen bad after-practice helmet/pigtail hair. Whatever I'm turning up in, it will be ok.

Let's see if I still feel like that in 4 hours, shall we?

Happy weekend to you!

*tempting though it may be, Beekeeper's room/bathroom are safe.  I'm trying VERY hard not to let my crazy invade on my roommate's territory.  So no- I'm not going to try to sell his Chessboard collection on Craigslist nor convince him that his Concrete Blonde bootleg CD collection should be burned to a hard drive then given to the YoungStarvingEmos charity organization.  You can feel free to taunt him with the belief that any of those things are going to happen, though, because it will be entertaining to watch the twitching.


**Since making this determination, I did buy new bathmats.  And a replacement DVD of Fight Club because mine died.  Both of these were replacement purchases, though, and the thing being replaced was immediately disposed of.  I also bought a new fancy schmancy bathroom scale, but justified that as being the same thing as other health equipment like running shoes.  I'm not going all crazy on this and I won't be trolling Freecycle if I need a shower curtain. I'm going to go buy a damn shower curtain.  Yes, this makes me a lesser person. I'm perfectly fine with that.


***I don't have a ballgown.