It was the Chicken's idea.
We started off the New Year determined to declutter our home. It was the Chicken's idea, and I ran with it. First we dismantled the cable boxes and cut loose from Comcast.
Then I upped the ante -- I went to the storage facility place a block away and bought a slew of moving boxes in various sizes. I attacked my closet, ruthlessly packing up 90% of my clothes, bags, shoes, etc., for storage or give-away. Then I did the same to the bookshelves, separating the wheat from the chaff. Then I noticed that the Chicken wasn't partaking in this activity. Then I realized that I've got a (baker's) dozen boxes piled up by the back door threatening to topple over and crush baby bird any minute. And I'm going to have to move them somewhere, somehow. And it's hella cold out there, and the steps leading down to the basement are icy. And the place is still a total clutter zone. And the bookshelves just look weird and bare. And all I can think about is packing up more.
Chicken Confession:
It's true it was my idea. "We must de-clutter by the end of January!" I declared. All closets must go minimalist."
But after crying a little as I packed up BB's infant clothes, I sort of lost my will to acknowledge the passing of time. So Rooster's closet is spartan and BB's as well. I am the only slob left standing. Those maternity clothes clogging the ranks are the way I hold onto history. And one day, the future!
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