Ode to a Shirt [or, thinking clearly]

Dear purple flannel shirt --

Oh, lovely purple flannel shirt, I shall miss you. So very much. We've had good times together, and bad times. We've had warm days and cold ones. We've lived in a few places, we've been to many places, and there's still so many places that you can go. But it won't be with me, lovely, comfy shirt. 
Because it's time we break up. 

I know, I know, I've kept you around far longer than I should have. 
It's a comfort thing. I like having you around, because you are so wonderful. Wear you with the Yoda shirt or a tank top - it didn't matter, you worked well with anything. Wore you in the Fall or the Spring, even in the Winter, and on chillier Summer days - you just worked well. 

But it's been time for you to go for a while now, you see. We both know it. 
Longer and longer times between you coming out of the closet. And, if you did manage to get out, only staying out for a little while before you got chucked back in (and by chucked, I mean hung up - I could never abuse you, purple flannel). 

Until I did. 
And I could hear you crying. 
I threw you onto the floor, and for that I am sorry. I should not have taken my anger out on you, dear shirt, because it is not your fault. You are still wonderful. Just not wonderful for me. 
You are too small, shirt, and you have been for a while. I've told you this, while petting your arm and wanting to have your warm flannel-y bits as a jacket. But that does not change the fact that you can no longer serve me, other than by taking up closet space. 

If I let you go, you can go grace someone else's closet, someone who can wear you and hopefully love you just the same, if not more than I did. 
Thank you so much for the many years we've had together, for keeping me warm and keeping me feeling stylish. Thank you for not getting holes or losing any buttons. 

But it really is time to let you go, my dear. I wish it wasn't so, I do. But we both know this relationship is over. 

Much love, 
~ the lady who has neglected you for far too long

Is it weird to write love notes to your clothes? I hope not, because this was actually fun.  

But in all seriousness - the Internet has gotten to me. I don't mean in a "I'm losing it" kind of way but in a "dang, that makes too much sense to just pass on by" kind of way.

You see, last weekend I came across more than a few blogs about minimalism and not spending money on stuff for a year and clearing out your home and all sorts of stuff. Things that were published before the Kon-Mari stuff came out, and things that have (as shown by blog comments) helped quite a few people.

These blogging-people seemed to love that they had less stuff.
I would love to have less stuff. It's been a reoccurring theme for me for quite some time, the want for less. There are some things that I will always want more of (like pens or papers or crayons), but there is plenty of stuff that I have just because I have it (old clothes, a mishmash of computer cords, movies that I will never watch again).

The funny part is, over the course of writing for this blog alone, I've done more than a few clear outs. All of which helped, sure, but were obviously never enough to get things down to a point where it feels manageable. Still too much, still not enough room (even though we are in a bigger living space!).

It's easy to get comfortable with the amount of things that you have, if you still have room to grow or move about freely. A quick pick up and it looks fine. A bit scattered, maybe, but fine.
Except it's not fine. It really is too much. The current state of our officeroom has proved that point. Because, yes, if we clean it up, it goes back to looking not too bad. But when it's too difficult to properly organize the things you have because you've run out of organizational tools, and you don't even fully know what's all where 100% of the time...that's kind of a problem.

Reading these "less is more" blog posts last weekend (in the middle of the night, as you do), I had the run in with the purple flannel. I was tired of reading at the computer, so sent a link over to my tablet, to continue reading in bed. But it was chilly in the bedroom, so I wanted something warmer to wear. Enter purple flannel. I was so happy to finally get to wear it! It hasn't fit properly in a while, but to wear around the house, something not fitting 100% is alright. Except I went to lay down and adjust so that I could prop my head up with an arm and the shirt just wasn't having it. I've had the darn thing for five years, so its not fitting is not surprising. I tried to adjust my awkward laying-not-laying position again, and the shoulder-y bits were just sad and too tight to be comfortable.
So, I tore it off and threw it back at the closet, so it could have a sit and think about what it had done. Other than, you know, this was when I realize that it was my own damned fault, that I was reading about this very thing, and that it was time for the shirt to go - along with all the other things I had kept in the closet for "just in case" or "well, it doesn't not fit too badly," but not ever wearing it.

Luckily, the past few months, I've been using a fancy closet filing system of sorts - clothes out of the dryer go in the "front" of the hanging clothes, and things that aren't worn slowly move farther and farther towards the "back" (which is really just the harder-to-get-to side).
So, I worked my way back-to-front, trying every single shirt I had on, up to the things that I had worn within the past two or three weeks. And most of it, not-at-all-shockingly, didn't fit. So, it went in a garbage bag, to be taken to Goodwill. Which is where said purple flannel shirt is hanging out.
And, hopefully, so will a lot of other things.

~Havok