We both have an unhealthy desire to throw things away. You've heard of the show, Hoarders? Well, we're the polar opposite of that. The Tossers. The "Oh my gosh, I still have that?"or "I will never use this again" and the classic, "This is simply takin' up valuable space."
It's pretty liberating, really.
Want to declutter your life? Throw it away. Chances are you won't remember you even had it and if you DO remember... you can always buy NEW and BETTER stuff to replace it. And let's face it, new (to you) is always better for everyone (except maybe your husband's wallet).
Sometimes I get a little overzealous with my love for throwing away. I'm especially good at chunking OTHER people's stuff. You don't need this, this, and definitely not that...
If nothing else, marriage is a great lesson in dealing with other people's junk.
G: "I can't live without my dirty soccer cleats that I've had for twelve years. What if I need them?"
Me: "I have literally never seen you wear that. Thank God."
G:"This camping equipment that I've never used will absolutely come in handy one day. You just never know!"
Me: "It's ugly. Let's get rid of it."
Yesterday, I spent over thirteen hours unpacking boxes and organizing. (A very interesting thing to do with one slightly OCD person and one ADD person.) At one point Grahm had to make a Wal-mart run because I needed more hangers for my closet. While he was gone, I had an overwhelming urge to throw away sooo many of his clothes, ya know, the GrungeCity tees that I'll never actually let him wear (it's for his own good). And his underwear... Oh my word, his underwear. What's with men and their inability to buy a new pair? They wear them to til they're entirely disintegrating.
Exhibit A: (These I DID throw away.)
Marriage also makes you learn about yo'self.
While I was contemplating chunking most of my husband's wardrobe, I had a realization about myself. I had no room to judge Grahm on keeping shirts until they're entirely discolored and frayed or wanting to wear his holey underwear. Because as much I love to throw stuff away, my one exception to this rule is my own wardrobe. I almost never get rid of my clothes. I've been this size since I was sixth grade (it's not cute to have the buns and boobs of a 12-year-old when you're 22), so my clothes are an accruement of intense labor, love, and time.
After the seventh box of clothes I unpacked yesterday, I realized I may have a slight problem... and maybe I should cut Grahm some slack. Thank the Lord, I don't treat everything like I do my clothes. Can you imagine if I had kept literally everything I owned since middle school? Kaaahh-razzzy.