Excess

So I'm sorting through my stuff, getting ready for our trip - deciding what to leave, what to take, and what to stick in the safe deposit box - when suddenly, overwhelmed, I saw it all as if through someone else's eyes, as if I were an alien (or a normal person) seeing it for the first time. And all I could think was ... where did this all come from?

I can't remember buying half of it, and that's not good. A true collector has stories. A true collector doesn't keep things she's outgrown or doesn't really like any more. A true collector doesn't keep everything just because. You know who does that? A hoarder.

Have you seen that show on A&E? (Clean House scared me. This one gave me nightmares.) Soon after I began blogging here (old life) I started the Grande Divestiture. I worked like a demon and cleared an astonishing amount, selling some in a yard sale (see June '08 posts) and giving the rest away. A few weeks ago, I noticed things starting to back up again. I cleared much from my office & closet & bathroom & dressers. I felt sooooo smug. Until today.

When I opened my under-bed storage box, pulled up the tray with my everyday stuff (gold, duh) I found ... seven pairs of sterling hoops that I haven't worn in eighteen months (two of which I bought in that time frame) ... eleven 925 chains that didn't even have pendants attached (in a big, orgy-like heap of tangled links) ... eight rhinestone buttons - buttons! - of various sizes ... and three pairs of broken earrings waiting to be fixed.

Now, understand, I really had done a lot of work, even here. Seriously! I picked and pulled and organized just a few days ago. I remember clearly bagging silver rings and turquoise and onyx. And yet I kept things. I excused. I hemmed and hawed until I just ... didn't part with it.

I can't do this. I won't. I realized today that instead of being a channel for all of this wonderful "learning curve" stuff, I've somehow let myself get snagged in the u-bend between "conspicuous consumption" and "twelve-step program" - hell, I'm one slow drip away from an intervention! I knew - I know - that if I can't blow these pipes for good, I'm going to have the 15 minutes of fame that we supposedly all have ... on the Arts & Entertainment Network.

I had a vision today, and I couldn't claw the donation bags open fast enough because of it. My excess will be gone tomorrow even if I have to walk it to the nearest thrift store.

Anybody need a 16" glass funnel?