Recently I’ve been shoveling crap out of the basement to donate or trash. I’ve freecycled like mad – old clothes, picture frames, stuffed animals, hockey cards… I’m bad at getting rid of stuff, but at certain times – the fourth Tuesday of a month during a half moon, maybe – I get the urge to purge, so I jump all over it before it fades and I’m sobbing over sad-eyed stuffed puppies and tiny plaid skirts again.
We seem to have a lot of surplus linens. Mismatched sheets, mateless pillow cases and scratchy blankets abound. For years when I asked my husband if I could get rid of them, he would always say “well, it will be useful if we get a cottage”. Numberless years later, we’re still not anywhere near getting a cottage, and I’m thinking if it ever happens we’ll just go to Wal-Mart (sorry) rather than keeping the pink plaid flannel and orange flowered monstrosities that are currently overflowing my downstairs storage closet.
I also came across this while boxing up sheets and blankets:
Anybody remember these? Polyester, kind of fuzzy, the soft sateen edge that millions of kids loved to slide their little fingers along? We had a blue one too, but I can’t find that one. I also found the blue woven blanket that used to adorn my husband’s futon in university. What struck me immediately was that, compared to the polar fleece blankets we have now, these babies weigh A FREAKING TON. If someone threw one of these on you, you’d stop shivering alright, but not necessarily just because it was warm. I called up to my husband “I have two blankets to get rid of but I need you to come haul them upstairs for me. And we might need a trailer to get them to Goodwill!”
This also reminded me of my brother-in-law’s baby blanket, which was plain white with the same sateen edge. He packed it to take to summer camp the year he was six, I think, and somehow it got lost in transit. Every letter home was filled with mountain panic regarding the whereabouts of Blankie.
Angus never had a Blankie – he had a dozen soothers, and a teddy. When he was born someone had sent him a lambskin which he never had any interest in, but as soon as Eve was mobile she co-opted it and it became her fiercely-beloved comfort object.
Hannah’s little sister also had, not one Blankie, but five. There’s a story about Hannah’s mom washing them one winter day, and a picture of the little sister outside in a snowsuit, rubbing the damp sateen edge on her face and sucking her thumb. And THAT reminded me of one day when Angus and Eve and I were playing North Pole in the upstairs hallway with cotton balls and pictures of penguins. At one point Eve disappeared into my bedroom and I found her like this: