OMG, Imelda, I Have Issues
Imelda Marcos was the First Lady of the Philippines and apparently had a shoe collection which numbered in the thousands. Of course, I imagine she lived in a palace or a mansion and probably had entire rooms she could devote to shoes.
I don't have nearly that many shoes but I also have a proportionally smaller house. My husband has been telling me for years that I have too many shoes. I've ignored him. I mean really, I love the guy but he only complains because he claims he trips over them. Whatever.
But lately, I've been really serious about tackling my clutter issues. The other day, I decided that the shoe situation at least deserved a look.
"Take a laundry basket, fill it up and go through a few at a time," my husband advised. Good advice really. Break it down. Small chunks. Except it wasn't going to work for me. I knew that realistically, I needed the big picture, holy crap, what the hell was I thinking pile. Every. Single. Shoe. I own. And so I schlepped up and down stairs (got my 10,000 steps in today) and made an enormous pile in the dining room. It looked like a staging area for hurricane relief or the aftermath of the hurricane itself.
Douglas Adams writes about the "total perspective vortex" in the Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy series and this is kind of how I felt about this pile. Adams writes, "In an infinite universe, the one thing sentient life cannot afford to have is a sense of proportion." Even though I was nowhere close to Imelda in the number of shoes I had, it was still mildly terrifying. I really didn't realize how many shoes I owned and I suppose it's probably true about everything in own. I can recognize that it's all to much yet still not really realize how much it actually is.
I did do a lot of amusing muttering as I sorted through the chaos. I said things like "Nope. Sorry. It's not you it's me" and "You promised me you'd be comfortable but you never were" and "You're gorgeous but your heels are just too high for my life."
The story ends reasonably well. I'm sending about half of them to the thrift store. I fully realize that I still have too many shoes. But it's a beginning.
shoes - before
shoes headed to the thrift store
I don't have nearly that many shoes but I also have a proportionally smaller house. My husband has been telling me for years that I have too many shoes. I've ignored him. I mean really, I love the guy but he only complains because he claims he trips over them. Whatever.
But lately, I've been really serious about tackling my clutter issues. The other day, I decided that the shoe situation at least deserved a look.
"Take a laundry basket, fill it up and go through a few at a time," my husband advised. Good advice really. Break it down. Small chunks. Except it wasn't going to work for me. I knew that realistically, I needed the big picture, holy crap, what the hell was I thinking pile. Every. Single. Shoe. I own. And so I schlepped up and down stairs (got my 10,000 steps in today) and made an enormous pile in the dining room. It looked like a staging area for hurricane relief or the aftermath of the hurricane itself.
Douglas Adams writes about the "total perspective vortex" in the Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy series and this is kind of how I felt about this pile. Adams writes, "In an infinite universe, the one thing sentient life cannot afford to have is a sense of proportion." Even though I was nowhere close to Imelda in the number of shoes I had, it was still mildly terrifying. I really didn't realize how many shoes I owned and I suppose it's probably true about everything in own. I can recognize that it's all to much yet still not really realize how much it actually is.
I did do a lot of amusing muttering as I sorted through the chaos. I said things like "Nope. Sorry. It's not you it's me" and "You promised me you'd be comfortable but you never were" and "You're gorgeous but your heels are just too high for my life."
The story ends reasonably well. I'm sending about half of them to the thrift store. I fully realize that I still have too many shoes. But it's a beginning.
shoes - before
shoes headed to the thrift store
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