Discoveries, unfortunate and sentimental

I just discovered that all my socks have holes in them. And they are pretty threadbare besides. I guess I just haven’t been paying attention, but now that I think about it, it’s been a long time since I bought new ones. These things sneak up on me. Like when you’re finally forced to accept that your favorite shirt has a stain on it and just can’t be worn any longer, or the last chip out of your perfectly sized coffee cup now really means you can’t use it. Or when you see that you really have to run so mundane an errand as to go out and buy new socks.

Such ‘discoveries’ always make me stop and think about individual oddities in the human psyche. I’m afraid I’m a card-carrying member of the ‘throw-away’ society. Not a very conservative spender. Others might classify me as a Careless Consumer but here I am, with worn out socks. Spectacularly worn out.

It would make an interesting psychological study. What do we easily let go of? What can’t we part with? What do we not even notice?

When I was cleaning out closets and trying to get rid of ‘stuff’ before our move, I got rid of PILES of extra things, no-longer-needed things, never used things, old things, new-but-irrelevant things, and I’m-just-tired-of-this-taking-up-closet-space things. I actually got rid of stuff I never thought I’d part with – bells and little music boxes I’d collected over the years, “decorative accessories” from past houses… dishes, pillows, jackets. Even hats. (Actually, I never wear hats – why do I have them?)

I could get rid of ‘stuff’ with personal value to me, but can’t seem to replace my socks?

OK, so sentiment isn’t the only thing. But it is a BIG thing.

Another discovery of a different sort: in a box in the basement was a giant stuffed bear. It had been in Todd’s room in the Alaska house for years, sitting on the floor, adding some comfort and grace to a sort of 'industrial' boy’s room. It wasn’t actually his though – it was mine. I got it from my folks when I was 6-months pregnant and in the hospital with a broken leg and appendicitis. (And you wondered why I only had one child…) I pulled it out of the box in the basement, saw it’s sad and wilted bow and the fact that it’s head was a little droopy, and thought maybe it was time to get rid of it. But then I pictured my dad, walking into that hospital room, offering up a great big stuffed bear because, he said, they couldn't think of anything else that might help. At the thought, tears came to my eyes; I held it close… maybe not. The bear will get a 'stuffing adjustment' and a new bow for the new house, but he'll be there... somewhere.

In a ‘throw-away’ society, there are still some things we just can’t seem to part with. Whether for inconvenience or phobia or sentiment or superstition, we hang on to the silliest things for the longest time. Maybe that’s not such an unfortunate discovery after all.