- 2 more worn-out floor mats
- dog-chewed lid
- dog-chewed bowl
- dog rope
- shower shoes
- open-toed shoes
- instant coffee
- fingernail polish remover bottle*
- another service pin
- 3 champagne glasses
- small coffee pot
- torn up barbecue grill brush
- phone book–2013 from office
- arthritis soak (Did NOT work!)
- purple shirt–melted
- paper jacket from my first mammogram
- Mitchie folder
I’m counting the polish remover bottle since I consolidated bottles. The dog has never played with the rope, preferring by far entire rolls of toilet paper, entire bags of sanitary napkins, and, as it would appear, Rubbermaid containers and lids as well as the occasional really cool pillow.
She also has an occasional hankering for Tesslon Pearls.
She’s better now. I’ve had these things for a while.
The champagne glasses, I’m pretty sure, are from the set I bought for my wedding, two of which were decorated and later unceremoniously stripped of its ribbon and baby’s breath.
That sounds a little more than vaguely violent.
I have no idea neither who Mitchie is nor how I ended up with a folder. The stuff worth trying to give away, I have, and the rest in the trash.
Proof that I really do hang onto everything–the blue and white lump is a paper jacket that I was given for my very first mammogram. My favorite purple shirt–a tough one to let go of–apparently had some sort of plastic fiber in it. It had spots where it had been literally melted–proof, I suppose that I do occasionally cook.
Sixty-three things down, but I can’t yet bring myself to touch my books. I want to get them to a single book case in the living room, with the overflow in the office. But I want to read them all first. I know some of them aren’t worth reading because I’ve already tried. But I still hang onto them, because I’m just not ready to go there.
So I make excuses, and find other things to get rid of.