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.