It's Outta There

Part of growing up is moving out of your parents house and embarking on a life of your own.

It's a really exciting time in a young girl's life because it means you can do things YOUR way. Women are nesters. We like to have our own decor, our own methods of storage, and our own kitchens.

(Even if we don't cook in them.)

I moved out of my mom's house when I was barely 18 years old. Since then, I've lived with Trish, the ex, hubs, and lots of kids.

I've never lived alone. Although, I have managed to, in my day, own a pink couch, have a picture of Audrey Hepburn hang above my bathtub, and refuse to empty the dishwasher. So, really, I'm doing pretty well, all things considered.

However, when you live with someone else, there's compromise. Pink couch gives way to brown/ earth tones. My stuffed animal collection found it's home in the closet, and hubs framed sports car glossy prints & employee of the month/year/millenium/whatever awards are proudly displayed in the man cave.

(He's under the false impression that there will someday be a picture of a shiny Corvette in our living room. Naive, silly, sweet man. That will SO never happen.)

Having lived in the same home for the past seven years, stuff can quickly accumulate in my home and I must purge it on fairly regular basis. Every year I faithfully throw out have good intentions to do MAJOR closet organization with every intention of donating bags and bags of stuff to Goodwill. It never happens.

I think the majority of women have things in their closet that they haven't worn in 5+ years. We keep things in there for a couple reasons.

#1) We're hoping we'll fit into it again. (These items are usually pants, or that amazing strapless shirt that you spent too much on and only fits you once a year when you have the stomach flu.)

#2) We know we won't ever fit into it again but we like to be reminded that we used to be able to wear it. (I recently got rid of a pair of jeans that I wore the summer between 8th and 9th grade. Never mind they were acid wash Girbauds!)

Whatever the reasons for keeping your unwearable clothes, I don't begrudge anyone for having a stack of them. It's good to have goals.

But seriously? Those Girbauds HAD to go. They were from a time before hips (and multiple babies) and they were giving me a complex.

My husband doesn't feel the same way about cleaning his closets. In fact, he doesn't like to get rid of anything of his. When I asked him to get rid of a few things so I could have a little extra room for my recently purchased summer items I picked up for a great price, no less, he freaked out. It went like this:

ME: (deep in our extra closet, unearthing who knows what) Do you need this sweatshirt? You have another blue one just like it. I've never even seen you wear this.

HUBS: (alarmed) What? What are you doing? Stop touching my stuff!

ME: (cheerfully) I'm getting ready to donate stuff to people that don't have clothes! This closet is full of clothes we never wear.

HUBS: That's my stuff!

**comes into closet to investigate**

ME: (patiently) I know. But in the three years we've been together, I've never seen you wear any of this stuff...so I thought...

HUBS: Damn it, Rachael! That's a perfectly good sweatshirt!

ME: Right! Someone without clothes will love it!

HUBS: It's MINE!

ME: (now realizing he's freaking out, and not being able to resist egging him on) Okay, so I'll put it in the donation pile.

HUBS: No! Hang that back up!

ME: (innocently) But why? You don't wear it.

HUBS: (bellowing) GET RID OF YOUR OWN STUFF!

ME: I'll just add this jacket too. And I'm pretty sure this shirt doesn't fit you.

HUBS: NOOOO! Harry (His grandma's 70ish husband) gave that to me!

I'm not sure why Hubs has such a hard time getting rid of stuff that he barely even knows he has. I mean, the man definetely doesnt want for anything, I can tell you that. He's not completely spoiled, but he certainly isn't deprived either. Besides, he has a wife that loves to shop and will, on occassion, buy him clothes. (We should all be so lucky.)

I mean, the man has nice things. He's not forced to eat Spaghetti-0s out of the can because we can't afford food and we are not forced to pay our mortgage with already over-extended credit card. He loves to buy gifts for people and is always generous with his money and his time.

But for some reason, he has a hard time parting with possessions. It's like he doesn't think he'll ever get another sweatshirt. Or that he doesn't have 10 hanging in his closet already. It's weird.

Since I am a helper, and I like to help Hubs get over his ailments and idiosyncrasies, I ruthlessly badger him until he caves and lets me do whatever it was that I was planning on doing before he got all bajiggity. See? Helping.

I think the main problem is that Hubs has failed to learn what every woman is born knowing:

If you get rid of stuff, you have room to buy more.

And according to my calculations, Christmas is only 151 days away.