Gluttony vs. preparedness

by Katie on March 19, 2012

I’ve been overcome with an overwhelming sense of the gluttony in my life since the beginning of this year. I’ve made four large drop-offs at donation centers since then, and have a fifth ready to go. This last purge meant that I now have all of my clothing (Big jackets included, which, how many of those does a girl in the desert need? Apparently a lot, according to my closet.) in only the master bedroom closet.

I know, ridiculous.

On January 1st, I had clothes scattered through three closets in our house. Brandon and I both had winter/outerwear in the “hunting room” closet, and I had created a “last chance” closet in the other spare room (where I took things I was considering ditching and decided if I hadn’t worn them in x months, they were gone) . I decided last weekend was the last chance for the last chance closet; as in, it went back in the real closet or in the donation pile. The real closet and winter/outerwear section also had some casualties.

By the end of it all, I was feeling like the glutton of all gluttons.

Our luggage is also kept in the closet that held the “last chance” clothing. While I was in the purging mood, I decided we could get rid of some of it too. We both came into this marriage with our own sets of luggage, and how many giant suitcases do two people who only travel to go hunting need? Not many, I decided. When we do travel anywhere else, like Texas, we pack one suitcase for the two of us…one carry-on suitcase at that.

So, I decided it was time to send my little three suitcase luggage set on its merry little way, full of gently-used clothing.

I casually mentioned this to Brandon. To which he went on alert. As he often does during my purging. Because y’all, the boy likes to keep his junk. Ask the box of cell phone accessories in his closet ranging from 1997 to 2011.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he said, chasing after me. “What do you mean, luggage? What exactly do you have out?”

“Relax,” I told him, “It’s luggage I brought into this marriage, we have plenty left, and they’re not great pieces anyway. We still have one giant suitcase, a good carry-on, plus all our duffels. It’s fine.”

“Well, what if we ever go on a long trip together?” he asked.

…And that’s where I absolutely lost it. Like, doubled over, gasping for air laughing. It was instant and uncontrollable. Because we have gone on “long trips” together:  once or twice a year…four or five days…in the mountains…hunting.

Which we do not need good, giant suitcases for. The oversized duffel bags still in our possession would be just fine.

Eventually, Brandon realized the humor in what he had just suggested himself, and joined in my laughter. But after a solid five minutes, he got a little annoyed and tossed his empty pudding cup at me.

I trailed after him, ensuring him that should that glorious day arrive, we could probably buy one more big suitcase to make the trip, should it be needed.

But he didn’t try to stop me again.



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