This is my 99th post since I started this blog a few months ago. All week, I’ve been trying to think of something profound to share for the big #100. But inspiration has failed me. Partly because I think my whole family is getting sick, and I’m more concerned about disinfecting every surface than writing this blog, and partly because I cannot write on demand. I’m an artist, OK? Inspiration has to happen upon me and find its way into my words … I’m not a circus monkey.
But then, I walked into my bedroom this morning and found my husband emptying his closet. (Round 2, but who’s counting?) I stood there for a moment in shocked silence. This is a completely un-prompted closet cleanse. And just in time for post 99? Could he not have waited one more day? Think of the serendipitous irony if my husband had encouraged me to take this 100 Thing Challenge, then backed out of it, protested it, and then come full circle to join the 100 Thing Challenge himself … just in time for post 100. Too good to be true. Life doesn’t work in nice round numbers like that. Welcome to reality.
I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there. Frozen in time. “Can you get me a bag?” he practically shouted. Apparently it was the third time he had asked. I’m not entirely sure what was going through my mind, but I rushed to find him a plastic garbage bag so he could fill it with all of these practically brand new clothes. What was he doing, anyway?
Upon closer look, it appeared he was downsizing all of these articles of clothing I’d never seen before. Where did these clothes come from? And where have they been hiding? In the depths of his closet(s), it turned out. These never-before-worn golf clothes that don’t fit him. Nice. He’s passing them on to his father and uncle to be put to good use. All goodness. Everywhere you look.
Until you open the armoire where he’s put the clothes he intends to keep:
- A black-and-white striped referee shirt. From high school, maybe? When he used to umpire Little League games? Honey … I know you have fond memories of those glory days, but really … does this shirt even fit anymore? I guess you never can be too prepared. What if you’re called on to ump a game some day? In an emergency.
- The long-sleeved brown and green camouflage shirt. My husband is not a hunter. And yet, this shirt is essential to his wardrobe. Why? I asked. In case he ever goes paint-balling again. Fair enough. When was the last time he went paint-balling, you ask? Let’s just say this … our son doesn’t know what paintball is … so the thought hasn’t crossed his mind in nearly six years. But we’ll hold on to that shirt just in case. Waste not, want not. That’s what hoarders always say.
- His Darth Vader costume. (I’m going to try really hard to type this with a straight face. Although there are already tears welling up in my eyes as I try to stifle my laughter.) So, on Halloween night, literally minutes after we walked in the door. Arms full of children. And candy. And pieces of their costumes that had fallen off along the way. A crazy dog wagging us to death. I turn around, and there is my husband. Fully changed. With his costume hanging on a hanger. I don’t have time to wonder what he is doing, because I’m busy searching for the tooth brushes and pajamas. The next morning, I step into our closet to find some clothes so I can go to work. And. Surprise! There’s Darth. Hanging in the middle of *my* clothes. “Honey, what ever could your precious Mr. Vader costume be doing on my side of the closet? There must have been a mistake.” I say. (OK, so maybe I didn’t use those exact words, but you get the gist, right?) There’s so much room on my side of the closet, since I minimized, he reasons. And there’s no room in any of his closets. So, Darth stays.
Look. I’m not here to complain. My husband voluntarily minimized his clothes today. And didn’t even let the bags of clothes sit around for weeks on end, waiting to be passed on to the next lucky owner (like I do). He loaded them instantly into the car and gave them away. Streamlined that process right before my very own shell-shocked eyes.
And he was home just in time for the UPS truck to deliver the arm loads of packages he was so surprised to see. What is this? A whole bunch of new golf clothes he found on eBay? So weird.
Serendipitous irony, how that worked out.