Confessions of a secret shoe-box hoarder

   I have heard said that confession is good for the soul. If that be the case, my soul is about to whitewashed clean.   
I’m on vacation this week. One of the things I decided to do while away from the 8-5 lunacy I call a job, is clean-out my closet.  That in itself is insanity.  I work all year for seven days off and I want to spend my precious free time cleaning closets? I’ve gone over the edge, people!
What I discovered this morning while knee-deep in clothes and shoes is that I’m only a few steps away from being a slob. I hate to admit this. It conjures such unsavory pictures: newspapers stacked to the ceiling, dishes in the sink, cups and plates hiding in the bathroom, laundry crawling out of the hamper trying to make its own way to the washing machine.  I’m not really that bad even though my ex-husband would disagree.  Maybe that’s why he’s my ex.
The problem is, I just can’t bring myself to throw things away. Take shoe-boxes for example.
On the floor in my closet I had ten empty shoe boxes.  Ten!  The shoes that came in them are gone, but I saved the boxes. My thinking is that I might need them to wrap Christmas presents in, or store stuff in.  However some of those boxes had been there since I moved, five years ago. And can you believe it? I packed those bastards and moved them to my new place! Lord, God what is wrong with me?
Then there are gift bags. I love gift bags. Their colors are so pretty. The pictures that grace their papered frames of horses, kittens, witches, and wizards are works of art. How can I throw art away? Besides you never know when you might need a gift bag. They aren’t cheap, ya’ know. The bags are like the shoe boxes. I might them to wrap things in.
And the clothes! 
I had a shirt that I bought in Jamaica over six years ago. It didn’t fit when I bought it. But it so pretty—dark blue with the moon, sun, and stars. Every witch needs a blouse like that, right? And some day I might be a size 6 again. So it hung in my closet next to the tan cowboy shirt with the fringe that is also too small.  I did bite the bullet and throw the Jamaican voo-doo shirt away, but I kept the cowboy one.  Because one can never have too many cowboy shirts and one day I might lose 60 pounds.  Right? Hey, it could happen. And when it does, I will have a shirt that Buffalo Bill Cody would kill for.
I ended up with seven garbage bags full of clothes to give to the Salvation Army. The shoe boxes and old gift bags ended up in the dumpster.  I can see the floor of my closet now. So what did I do to celebrate this cleansing?
I went shopping and bought more stuff!
Tomorrow I plan on cleaning out kitchen and desk drawers. Oh boy! I haven’t looked in them in five years. No telling what treasures I will find that need to be tucked away in some shoe box.
Damn!
I knew I shouldn’t have thrown those boxes away.
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This entry was posted in Ruth Burkett Weeks, shoe, shoebox, soul, western. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Confessions of a secret shoe-box hoarder

  1. Jack LaBloom says:

    See what happens when you throw stuff away?

  2. Jan Morrill says:

    But I want to see an AFTER picture. 🙂

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