I didn’t go visit Dale today. I didn’t visit G’s father or my Father either. What I did was clean out my closet. Ruthlessly. It didn’t matter how much I paid for something, what it was, or who gave it to me, if I hadn’t used it, out it went. If it didn’t fit me, I got rid of it. I did put everything in a giant bag to donate, and I was quite surprised at the weight of it all. You would have laughed at me.
Beige top? Beige alone should be a key for dismissal. When did I get it. To go with what? I can’t button the turquoise shirt? Oh dear, and out it goes. Pants. Even my favorite Ralphies that I paid real money for? They can no longer be buttoned. I’ve gained so much weight this year that I now have a pop-over top despite all my efforts in the pool.
I wimped out when it came to the last box on the floor of my closet. It’s got the bedroom curtain, chair, and lamp fabrics in it. I had tried on every shirt and every pair of pants, and perhaps I had worn out my git-up-and-go. Perhaps I will go visit John, Ruby, and Dale tomorrow afternoon.