Movin' on

Next week I am moving for the second time in a year.  There are few things in this world that irritate me more than moving.  It's not even right to call it moving; it ought to be called "pack all your crap that you swore you would deal with before you moved again the last time you moved and then unpack it so that it can sit wherever it stays until you pack it up again and move"-ing.

I thought I purged as well as I ever have when I moved last year, but as I begin the process of recognizing things that have been in the same location for the last year, I realize that I could stand with another purge, especially in the wardrobe category.  I got rid of half of my clothes last year,stuff that was either too small or I had not worn in three years.  Most of it still fits, but I haven't worn at least half of it in the last year.  I don't understand what connection I feel to this clothing.  It holds no sentimental value, it certainly is not unique, and it's not like I would have to go out and replace anything if I donated it all.

You want hats?  I  got 'em!  Golf shirts with amazingly bland styling?  Take your pick.  I have flannel shirts that I haven't worn since college, and for some reason I notice that I have stopped wearing sweaters.  Ties?  Just leave me a few for the occassional wedding/funeral.  I have coats for all seasons, shoes for any event, and socks that I wouldn't wear to a costume party.

But by far the most prized possessions in my "no touch" wardrobe are the dress shirts left over from my retail career.  There's about ten, all in different styles, with "Jewel/Osco" stitched in above the left breast pocket.  When I left that business I decided that the shirts were good enough to keep so I invested in a stitch remover and painstakingly removed the logo from a dark purple shirt.  I did a good job, you can hardly tell by looking at the shirt that it used to be an advertisement.

Of course, I have not worn the shirt once, and I never bothered to remove the logos from the others.  They all still hang in my closet.  But I could, there's a great place to sit in my new abode where I could listen to some music and rip away...

That abode, by the way, is the house I grew up in.  More on that development later.