(Pic #1) The “keep” pile that I’ll never wear again.
“When one door closes, a shoebox opens.” — Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City
We decided to begin the dreaded task of de-cluttering the house this week. It’s no big deal to husband Josh, but to me, well, I’d rather shove an ice pick through my freshly-pedicured big toe.
When faced with letting go of “things” I’ve had for years — even decades — I just get paralyzed. Totally immobile, hopelessly frozen. I’m sure it’s some sort of childhood trauma rearing its ugly head, but I tend to ignore anything that requires authentic introspection.
So when it came to dealing with the shoe section in my closet (I’m guessing there were a minimum of 50 pairs) I just couldn’t commit to any serious elimination. I ended up collecting a box of heels that are insanely uncomfortable, way too small, and pointless to keep. I said to Josh as I reverently held up a pair of Calvin Klein satin sling-backs, “How can these be a size 8? I’ve never worn a size 8.” (If you care, I wear a size 10.)
But man, are they cute.
Then I unearthed a pair of cinnamon-colored silk rose pedal-accented sandals that I absolutely couldn’t let go. (Pic #2) Ga-ga-gorgeous — but unwearable.
And man, are they cute. (Pic #2)
If you have experienced this kind of uncontrollable obsession (clinging to useless objects for absurd sentimental reasons) please contact me. I just need to know my issues are not “solely” my own.
(Pic #2) Silk rose pedal-accented spikes.
