Bags of Pants

Right! I have just finished a big wardrobe clean out. You should have seen mum's face - she was loving it. Lined up by my bed I have 5, count them, FIVE bags of various items of clothing I am donating to the Salvo's. Beside my desk I have one (just the one) bag of clothes I think might go well with someone I know, so will be donated directly, skipping Savers: damn the middle-man. 

What sparked this flurry of activity, you might ask? Aside, of course, from the obvious. Well, this morning I needed a black singlet. I dug and dug through the draw I knew it was in, but could I find it? Well, yes, actually, I did find it eventually, but it took ages. Ages, I say. Anyway, this less than unique occurrence highlighted the necessity of a draw clean out. In some ways, despite the massive pile of clothes I am disposing of, I feel like I have gained some new items. For example, a white top, which looks great. I have no idea where it came from, but there it was, inside one of my old jackets (where else?). Also, I had about a dozen pairs of jeans I had forgotten about. Trying those on was fun - like playing The Biggest Loser or something and seeing the gradual change. Some of those pants were huge.

Anyway, when I was done, mum warned me not to let dad see them - he is more of a hoarder than I am, and would go through them and rediscover usefulness in old cardies or something. Hence their new home, in plastic bags by my bed.