After my Goodwill haul on Monday, I did a thorough combing of the baby bins and took two huge bags of boy clothes to the 16-month-old across the street, and another big bag of clothes that would be too small for him went to Goodwill. I added a bit more to the bag of special girl clothes that is being saved in the hopes that one of my two good friends who is currently pregnant will have a girl (you know who you are! it’s a fight to the birth!). I also made it to the consignment shop to drop off all the jewelry I cleared out a week or so ago, thinking of Christina the whole time, because I was actually moving the clutter beyond my own personal property and into the hands of someone else.
Best of all, last Saturday at 3:45, Dave announced he had to bring some wood to the dump. We had only 15 minutes to get there before it closed, but as we were gathering our brood and throwing coats and hats on them I rushed down into the basement and grabbed the two broken bouncy chairs that have been languishing there for months. One was broken beyond repair, and the other was marginally usable but only if you’re ok with your baby bouncing next to some odd wires sticking up. On our way to the dump I suddenly had a pang about getting rid of these bouncy chairs, the ones we’ve used for all three kids, and the fact that they’re too big for bouncies already. When we got to the “Household Goods” bin and I was about to throw them in, I wondered if any part of me would regret getting rid of them. And then, as I threw them in, it felt like a literal weight was lifting off my shoulders. Regret? Hell, no! Elation! Getting rid of the bouncy chairs is not getting rid of my bouncy chair memories, but it is getting rid of two monstrous space hogs that don’t even work in the first place.
It made me feel like I may need to re-Freecycle the crock pot and the juicer. I like them but they don’t really get used enough to justify the space they take up. I’m still slightly on the fence about this, but leaning toward getting rid of them.