The Ultimate Pack Rat (Patricia Potter)

The book is in, the revisions done, and I’m relaxing for the first time in two months. Well, kinda.

So much to be done. So much neglected in the said two months. Bills to be paid, decisions on what to do with my mother’s rapidly declining CD income. A mulched garden with no flowers. A proposal I should do for a new book, but no writing energy left.

I decided, instead, to attack my closets (a favorite of writers when in a quandary or writing block). Trying to choose clothes to donate to one of the several charities turned out to be a dilemma equal to fruitless quest a year ago to reduce the number of books in my possession. I think, after a two day search for expendable books, I surrendered about two out of 2,000 volumes.

There are two problems, though, for me. The first is weight fluctuation. I regret admitting that my weight fluctuates between three sizes. I am now in the mid size and heading down toward the low size. But one never knows, and so I’m reluctant to surrender anything. Weight tends to go up during deadline time when I live on corn beef hash and snacks. Then it goes down during recuperating time.

Someone once told me you should discard anything you haven’t worn in two years. I have stuff I haven’t worn in ten, maybe twenty years. Gee, it looked good on me then. That day will come again, I vow. Better keep it.

I have t-shirts from every trip I ever took, often sweat shirts too. My choice of souvenirs. Twenty-five years of t-shirts. Can’t give those up, and the memories. Even if they do fill my entire dresser. Besides, who wants a ten-year old t-shirt. Besides me, that is.

Then there are my good dresses. I admit to you, only, that I wear a ‘really’ nice dress – a cocktail dress or gown – once a year, and that’s at the Romance Writers of America annual convention. I wear one to my publisher’s party and one to the Awards Ceremony. I keep hunting for the perfect ‘really nice’ dress. You never know when you’re going to win, although I’m the Susan Lucci of romance writers. Seven times a finalist and never a winner. Maybe I just don’t have the right dress. Better get another, a lucky one. But I must keep the others in reserve.

Obviously from the comment above, I like casual clothes. In fact, I love casual clothes. Slacks and shirts, but recently I’ve turned to jeans. But there’s lots of slacks of varying sizes, and you never know when you might need a quick pair. Better keep them all.

There’s really, really old stuff. No one would be seen dead in those fashions, but maybe a vintage clothes dealer. . . Hmmmmm.

Two days shot, and I have two boxes filled. I need ten boxes filled. But I’ve come to the conclusion that I am the ultimate pack rat. I loathe giving up something I just might need in the future.

My question to you: Any suggestions on how to cure this particular malady. Before my house collapses under the weight of its contents?