Yesterday my significant other and I helped his cousin and her husband move. They had plenty of help the days preceding and now it was our turn. He helped the husband with the large heavy items and I helped his cousin get the rest of her closet boxed up and bagged little items that still lay around the house. As I helped her put things in boxes and bags, I couldn’t believe—or maybe yes I could believe—how much she had tucked away out of sight, little whicker baskets of clothing, scarves, knickknacks. She had to make due with the small space that their old house afforded. I kept thinking back to the clothing and other miscellany in my own closet. A blouse warn once or looked at twice, now an orphan piece of clothing hanging there to gather dust, to be looked at, but not touched. I have one such jacket that I keep swearing that I will wear. I bought it at a second hand store, a nice deep army green straight tailored and plenty of room to move around comfortably in, with a plum lining. It has character. I’ve worn it once and that was about 15 years ago.
After the second stage of my helping task, which was to help the cousin unpack and put things in their right place, I was further astonished at clothing with tags still on. She also had a few hand bags, very nice Italian bags that were in the garbage pile. She said if I’d like to have them to feel free. I’m not a purse or handbag person, but one brown bag caught my eye. I decided to take all three. I think I will donate them to the local second hand store. I’m also guilty of throwing things away in a haste during the home stretch of a move. There comes a point where you don’t want to look at all the stuff any longer and the ease of throwing objects away becomes an easy answer. I couldn’t stand to see those purses go to the trash heap, so I rescued them for some other person to enjoy and appreciate.
We put in a long day, fruitful though, which was great. The men would have to finish the following day, which is today—Sunday. There wasn’t more for me to do so I stayed behind and took care of the laundry chore.
Sometimes we share the laundry duty and other times it works out for only one of us to do it; and sometimes we appreciate the space of doing it by ourselves. Since my significant other had to be out of the house by 7:00 a.m. to continue with the move, I decided I’d get the day’s laundry task done early this time. We don’t usually begin early. I sorted through the laundry and all the while, my mind was taking note that there were clothes I should look through, could look through and form a pile for donations. There were also books and other things—thus this has led me to my spring cleaning mindset—a little early, but it’s about time. I think I’m going to try and “spring clean” every 3 months or so—keep the accumulation in check. I believe I’ve actually said this before, but maybe the habit is already beginning. I’ll see in another three months.
When I got back from doing laundry. I had to make several trips to take the baskets of clothes upstairs. I left the baskets in the living room, went to the bedroom, and I immediately went to my clothing shelves and tossed the clothes on the bed and began sorting through the clothes. I started a pile for donating, which the green jacket will finally join. I then folded everything that I was keeping. The shelves were getting stuffed, partially due to poor folding—lazy folding, on my part. This is only a start. I’m looking forward to decluttering, a task that always makes me feel a little lighter.
Besides getting an early start to the day and coming home with more day before me, I enjoyed seeing and hearing the cows moo. Certain laundry days I see one or two cows and no moos. Today, though the green hills were spotted with cows and their delightful moo, moo. I also noticed that when I walked into the laundry, there were three men doing laundry. No women yet. It wasn’t until about 10 a.m. that the first woman walked in. It seems that one older gentlemen may have been washing for the first time. He appeared to have one large comforter. I heard him ask someone how long it took for a load to wash. He seemed antsy and kept checking. One of his loads of wash was next to mine. I felt for him because there are some days I too feel antsy doing laundry; today was not one of them. Another gentlemen seemed the athletic type and he was kind enough to hold the door open for me, though I didn’t expect nor necessarily want him to. He did it once. I had more laundry. He didn’t do it the other times and I’m glad because it would have felt odd. The doors are easy enough to open. And then there was a man who seemed annoyed when I just about ran into him. I was backing up quick with my basket and didn’t see him. I said sorry. He had a cold stern look about him. I proceeded to the dryer.
And so that has been the day, not terribly exciting, but I felt joy in driving down the twisted roads with the bird chatter in the background; walkers and runners getting on with their routines; green hills being green hills; and cows mooing—I think this was my favorite part of the day so far.