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Since the comment someone made that I should lighten up has struck me hard, I have spent many hours pondering. I pondered into all the years growing into myself. Yes, there are really good days and really awful ones, but I will expand on good ones and leave the bad ones to your imagination.
I want you to know that in all of the aging categories, we share good, not so good, and bad days. What I have come to know is that you CAN make your not so good days into good days, and perhaps you bad days into not so bad days. Now I sound like a babbling idiot, so what! If you get the point, good for you and if you don’t, I’ll take heed.
In order to get moving they say do the hard things first. So, I swallow a small cup of coffee from our needy coffee maker, chugalug down my recommended dosages of medications to keep the workings of my body greased, which are all not hard things. Then, I comb my hair, a hard thing. The hair issue follows me from childhood. Then, the next hard thing is getting dressed. I have two choices, I can pull on yesterday’s clothes at the foot of the bed, easy, or I can dress up fancy, hard. So I choose the hard thing. I dress as if I am going to a formal wedding. I find pretty dress up dresses, hang them in a row. Some of these lace and chiffon apparel have no place in my real life.
I must make them a part of my life or give them to the charity shop, so I put one of them on and start the vacuuming, dusting, canning, and set up house for dinner guests. I start cooking, my passion, easy and hard. You would think I would save the pretty little frocks for company, Of course not. Do you think I am daft? They would call the lunatic ward in the nearest hospital. No, no, no, the fancy dress is for doing the hard things.
When hard things are done. I pull on the clothes at the foot of my bed and rest awhile.
The reason I write is to uplift my past, down beat aging protests and also to bring you to a recent discovery and desire to beat the state of affairs in my closets.
I decided to count the hangers holding items of clothing, skipped the scarves. I added each closet’s contents and came up with 812 items. How can that be? I know many items are from the distant past and I can prove it. Some I tagged from my 50th birthday party. To say I am sentimental about my clothes hanging on the hangars is putting it mildly. What is my point? Here it is plain and simple, how many outfits can I make, mixing and matching items on the hangars? The math is mind boggling for me, but I am willing to make a wager that I will not be living long enough to wear each of the multitude of outfits. You want to know what I am saying. I am saying politely, that, if I buy something else, I have to throw two in the charity bin. If I do not, slap me.
Just saying….
How many hangars do you have? Please count and get back to me with the numbers of outfits you can make. Bet you can’t do the math, I know I can’t even begin to fathom such a project. I just know intuitively, I cannot outlive my clothes. Depressing thought. Or is it?
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