The last several days have been a flurry of sorting, decluttering, packing, clearing, tossing, giving away, purging and sneezing as the dust has been flying. In my zeal to streamline, I may have accidentally given away Josh’s jeans and belt that he loved because they were sitting too close to a pile of clothes that he was giving away. Oops, sorry love. You can buy new ones.
I’m turning into a screeching harpie because I sort through stuff and then the kids keep trying to “save” things from the trash bags stacked by the front door: I love this (grungy) stuffed bunny, Mom! He’s my favorite!
Then why did I find him under the dresser covered in cobwebs and hanging with the missing marker caps and change? Hmmm, I highly doubt he’s your favorite. I’m not even sure if he belongs to us or was left behind by one of the kids who comes to bible study.
The war is on. If I don’t love it, it’s not coming with us. If it’s replaceable, it’s gone. And at the end, when I’m on the other side, receiving and opening boxes I will still say, “How did this ever make the cut?!?“
I”m off to tackle the bathroom. No Shampoo Left Behind? No, more like Every Prescription for Itself!
