Spring Cleaning

Spring cleaning . . . gotta do it.  There is going to be a church-wide garage sale in only five weeks *yikes!* so it is time to get rid of truck-loads of stuff I have accumulated over the last mumbledy-nine years.  It's difficult to get rid of things, though.  I was going to donate an old wash stand (it has a marble top, a tile backsplash and cabinet below).  I guess people used to put a bowl and pitcher on them and wash, who knows, anyway, it's old.  Wesley said, "You can't give that away, it's the first antique we bought as a couple, Woo used to sleep in it!"  

Woo was our second kitty, a Chocolate Point Siamese.  He was about a year younger than our first kitty, a Seal Point Siamese.  I named the Chocolate Point Willie Wonka, and we called him Willie.  Then his name morphed into Willie-Poo, then Poodly-Woo, then just plain Woo.  He was Woo for most of his life.  He would open the cabinet door underneath the wash stand and get in it and sleep.  So, as a result, I'm stuck with the wash stand for the rest of my life because Wesley is sentimental about things like that.  Guess what the wash stand is doing now?  It's in a room I almost never use with a bunch of cra . . . uh, collectibles on it.  The "collectibles" are probably special, too.

I asked Wesley if I could give away our dining table and chairs.  He said, "What would we eat on?"  I said, "The same thing we are eating right now", which is TV trays in the living room.  I can't remember the last time we ate at that table.  Yeah, we don't entertain.  Or would that be - no, we don't entertain?  I figure people know what they want to do for fun, so they can entertain themselves in their own houses.

Seriously, it is difficult to get rid of things that were once considered special. I'll pick up something, think "I haven't even looked at this doo-dad in who knows how long.  It's time for it to go!"  Then I'll think, "Well, it is kinda cute, and how much room does it take up, anyway."  Then I'll think back to the Antiques Roadshows I've watched and wonder if the doo-dad might be worth about a gazillion dollars.  I wonder if I should check it on Ebay.  I decide it's too much work to mess with and too bothersome to think about, so the doo-dad goes back where it was.  

But still, I'm optimistic because the de-cluttering articles and books I've read, which are in a stack on my hearth, assure me that I'll never miss those things once they are gone.