Y’all, I just have to publicly shame myself for a moment. We’re moving which means I’m going through every cupboard, corner, closet, nook and cranny in my house, going through every. single. thing. that we own and deciding what is coming with us to Portland and what isn’t.
The five years that we’ve been in this house have been some of the most chaotic of my life. We moved, then immediately had a baby, then had some health issues from that birth that sucked and made just existing hard, then almost immediately had another baby, then had some more stressful health issues… all while David was working AND in school full time trying to finish up yet another degree. Needless to say keeping on top of the clutter was not my #1 priority at all during any of that time (and I’ll cut myself quite a bit of slack for that) but I had no idea just how much crap we had accumulated in that time.
Anyone who has been to my home knows that it’s in a constant state of chaos. There are always dirty dishes, there are never not toys on the floor for more than 5 minutes, and I’m not a clean freak at all… but I honestly didn’t think we were packrats or anything. For having two little kids I didn’t think we were doing that bad. Until I started going through stuff.
I’ve been pulling everything out of completely full closets and only putting back one shelf full because everything else is going to Goodwill or the trash.
I went through the linen closet thinking there were probably some things that could go. We had FIVE SETS of torn sheets in there. And not really nice sheets that just needed a little mend, sheets that has been in use for 10 years that are so thin you can see through them and torn all the way through that beyond all doubt just belong in the trash. THERE IS NO FREAKING REASON THAT I SHOULD BE KEEPING TORN SHEETS!
We had about 15 travel coffee mugs. Do you know how many people in this house take coffee with them out of the house ever?
Me. End of list.
The whole moving process has left me feeling like I need to call the producers of Hoarders on myself so they can come film an episode. That’s a little bit of an exaggeration but seriously, I do not need an entire shelf of baby blankets. Everyone in this house is too big for them and we have zero plans to reproduce again, the fact that they’re still here instead of having been donated to a women’s shelter the moment my kids grew out of them makes me want to hide my face.
So that’s my confession. It is what it is. Now if you’ll excuse me I have three more days at home before the movers show up and only about 90 bazillion things to get done.