Oh my gosh, I completely forgot to update the closet purge saga. It’s just as well, since it’s been a slow progression over many months, and I’m not done yet.
I don’t actually have spatulas in my closet
As I mentioned back in March, we had a seriously confusing number of spatulas in many sizes. There were wooden ones, silicone ones, metal ones — in so many sizes. Yes, we like to cook, but the spatula thing was completely out of control.
It was the first order of business just because I needed to feel progress before facing my closet. We ended up giving several to family and donating the rest. Not sure that it’s the most exciting item to receive, but there you have it. It’s practical.
So many pants!
My yoga pants seem to have reproduced. That’s not exactly shocking after working on my couch for months on end. So the goal for the purge ended up being to get down to five. As soon as I get rid of the two old favorites that are so stretched they serve as jammies, I can declare success.
Funny anecdote. My husband gave me several of the kind that have pockets on the sides. One day we decide to hit the tennis courts and since I was already in my yoga pants, I figured I was good to go.
At first I was completely amused by how many tennis balls I could hold — looking completely ridiculous with the odd shaped bulges on the sides of my legs. But then, my husband returns a fast ball, I run for it, turn my ankle, fall and ROLL on the ground. Over the tennis balls in my pocket.
My scraped knee and elbow were mere child’s play compared to the bruises and pain on the side of my leg along my iliotibial tract. Even though there were tennis balls in both the pockets, I was able to (somehow) prop myself up during the roll well enough to only injure one leg, so that’s something.
Lesson: no tennis balls in the yoga pants. In fact, maybe remove the temptation (cause it really is fun to fill up the pockets): no yoga pants on the tennis court period. Shorts. Pocketless ones.
Bye to the big
And now for the fun news. For a myriad of reasons, I decided to drop some weight. Most of us are making our best choices for riding the wave of this pandemic. For me, reducing risks is a big part of it. So over many months, I’ve slowly and comfortably shed twenty pounds. Result: none of my non-yoga pants stayed up on their own any longer (including my indispensable jeans).
I got rid of most things that didn’t fit except for a few tops that are looser, but look fine. Online shopping for pants never works out for me, and since I still don’t love in-person shopping, I delayed replacing things for weeks on end. And then the magic blue jean fairy (i.e. my husband) saved the day with four new pairs. Now I just need a couple of work pants and I’m set.
You know how the dryer tends to eat single socks? I guess mine spits out random single socks from other people’s lives because I swear there are now more socks in my drawer over all than there had been a couple of years ago.
Not sure what that’s about, but I’m not sure what to do with them. It doesn’t make much sense to donate unmatched socks. Unlike t-shirts, I can’t just cut out the cool parts and save them for a quilt. And I don’t really need a dozen sock puppets.