I’m usually only nostalgic after tequila. Yet to my surprise, I found myself weeping while
preparing for our non-alcoholic garage sale.
Since the Swiss simpletons don’t appreciate square footage or walk-in
closets like the Western world, I had to make a significant reduction in my
shoe, clothing, and Britney Spears’ collections. Our carton of wordly possessions left shore
one week ago, and I struggled immensely with what to take, what to store, and
what to sell to strangers.
As I sat in our driveway and watched transients drive away
with my belongings, I was overcome with a sense of sadness for all the glamour
I am leaving behind---who will look after my smutty beach novels? My never-run-in
running shoes? Am I a light switch away
from Amish?
I hate that old cliché “you never know what you’ve got til
it’s gone.” Well I knew I had a badass
fedora hat collection, but they took it from me anyways. My husband is thrilled with this closet
cleanse, and assures me I won’t miss any of it once I gaze upon the scenic
Swiss Alps and breathe in some of that fresh, mountain air. I’ll get back to you all on that. Until then, look for the peasant mourning in the shoe department.
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