Recently S flew the coop (no, this isn’t another chicken post) and moved to Austin with our friend’s son. He’s our friend too, but since we met K when he was a wee lad of six or seven I suppose it’s more appropriate that we call him the son of our friends. We’ll ignore the fact that he’s closing in on 30 because that would make us old. Wait, we are.
Anyway, K was also roommates with our oldest C before he got married and ran off to another state. We told K that if he held off on getting married long enough he could also have J as a roommate. He didn’t think that was as funny as we did.
So when S moved he took all of the things he ‘needed’, but unfortunately that didn’t mean that he cleaned out his room completely. The dresser was still pretty full, the closet stuffed full and the desk was chock full of ten years worth of mementos. While the bed, nightstands, tv and other stuff holder were now missing from the room and it appeared empty it was far from it.
S made a couple of attempts at clearing things out, but he needed professional help. Thankfully his mother is a professional organizer on the side. Realizing how much help he needed I jumped in and we went through each item one by one. We had a few items that were considered precious treasures that we set aside in one section of the room to be saved for a later date. No problem there, unless the pile gets too big.
Some stuff just needed to go into the trash. I promise to spare you the detailed pictures on this stuff. You’ll need to trust me that the freshman year boxer briefs were not to be photographed. Can you say ‘Sunday wear’??? There was talk from ‘my client’ that those were a keepsake. They were not.
Then there were items that could be donated. Some of these had lots of very fond memories, like the blue jeans he wore the summer after 5th grade when he and C went to Minnesota with a teacher and his wife who were moving back home.
The shorts that he wore completely out and were more than threadbare. We argued over a few items, like the Junior Staff shirts that he wanted to get rid of, but I made him keep. He wanted to get rid of the All-District football patch that I paid $40 for. We both agreed that the jeans I had repaired no less than ten times could go, but there was a hint of sadness for him. I think an entire spool of blue thread was holding those together as much as they were even still together. We enjoyed the memories and kept some and let others go.
A few items were classified as belonging to others, like the adidas t-shirt C wore freshman year of high school. S insisted that he needed to be called to verify that it was ok to get rid of a shirt he’d not seen in more than a decade. He did give his consent.
There was L’s gi from 1985 when he briefly took karate. Just for the record it is in good shape, but no longer fits any male in the house. That went on for donation. The grey boots and matching belt with silver lacing went back to L’s closet.
Finally, there are the items that have some value that could possibly be sold. A CB radio, 8 salt water fishing lures (which cost S dearly one day at Cabela’s when he found out the hard way that 10 lures stapled to a card did not just cost $2.49; that was the ‘each’ price), some wireless headphones that he got for a gift from his former employer for graduation and 2 dozen CDs.
Did you notice that we live near a fresh water fishing area? Apparently the price wasn't the only thing S didnt read during that trip to Cabela's.
It was about this time that L came home and said you’re making it worse. Sometimes it has to get worse before it could get better.
I took an inventory of all of the stuff to be donated so I can deduct them from our taxes next year. Then I bagged it all up in a giant pile
Two large sized plastic storage bins for the precious treasures
Wow, now look at how the room is really emptying out.
Next up, we get to figure out what to do with the space. I don't have the answer for that, just for the record.