Too many things hanging in my closet prompted me to fill a couple of contractor trash bags this afternoon. The contractor who helped me remodel this past year told me one day, "Bags so strong you could put a contractor in them". I only put in old clothes and shoes, however, so that I might have more room to easily move around and find the things I have decided to keep. I think I could quite easily part with more, as my normal apparel is a sweatshirt, shorts (except when too cold), and a pair of Crocs. I have wool sweaters, thick and warm enough for an Alaskan adventure, which I hate to just toss away because of their value, and so I will keep them another year, and slide them deeper into a corner of the closet, where I do not need to look at them.

Eight pairs of Levis? What for? I ask myself, as I toss five or six into the bag. I have but one set of legs, and wear only one pair at a time. Maybe I bought them in the days when I did not have enough time to do the wash so regularly, or perhaps it was just laziness rather than lack of time that kept me from the washing machine. I then tossed several shirts I used to wear to work quite regularly. Since retirement, I don't need to pick and choose, which always slowed me down in the mornings anyhow when I would get up before sunrise and shuffle around the house, getting myself fixed up for another day at the office desk, where nobody would see me anyhow.

Shoes? Yea, a few pairs of those got tossed too. Some were worn thin, some were just extras I didn't really need, and would trip over all the time. I then dug a little deeper into some drawers and boxes and ridded myself of another couple of cubic feet of outdated computer equipment, including connection cables and power cords. I wish someone would invent wireless electricity. It can't be that hard! The sky is full of it all the time, so we have a few good models of how it works that we might learn from.

If I needed any of what is now missing I might have regret over hurriedly sorting out the most useless, but I actually breathe a little easier now in the comfort that this surplus is making some money for the donation store, and that someone in need of USB wire can rejoice over getting it for so cheap.

The rule of thumb I learned years ago is that if you don't use something in a year, you probably will not use it in the next year either. With that maxim in mind I may next tackle the tool shed, where two-pound coffee cans hold rusty nails, screws, and other odd bits of hardware. This house did not come with much of a garage, and what was garage is now living space. I built the two tool sheds to hold what most people might store in a garage, but now when I go in them I see they have become merely a storage place for obscure things I no longer really need. The tools themselves that I have been trying to protect and preserve really do not need such an elaborate structure, so I will be out sorting what is essential from what is not.

All of life can only be lived in the present. The rest is memories of what life I once lived, and a heap of mementoes to keep me well reminded; or, a future that is uncertain in its duration and disposition, which I can make room for by letting go of the clutter that I accumulated in the past. I come from a long tradition of pack rats, and when they passed on I was the one who had to dump all their treasures, which wasn't a lot of fun, because I felt like they were standing over me and judging me for what I gave away. Maybe in the outer world we will have a further discussion about that antique hope chest with the busted hinges that my mother carted around with her all her life, but for now I am free of it.

I think I could easily retire in a tiny forest hut where I bring in nothing from the world outside but a few pine cones to study and maybe several bird feathers; whatever I might find close by, immediate, and meaningful in each day's experience.