Yesterday I had to go to the Post Office to mail out a pattern order to England. (I mention that just to impress you). This Post Office is in a little shopping strip, and next door was a small thrift store. I had a few minutes to spare, so I decided to go in and browse. I am always drawn to the dishes and they had a big wall of shelves full of dishes. I picked up a little pie dish and held on to it. Then I saw a little silver tray by Oneida and thought of all the silver I received as wedding gifts and never used. I spotted a silver casserole just like one I once had, all tarnished and unattractive. How sad. Where did mine go?
"Oh look!" I say to myself, "I had dishes just like these that I tried to sell at a garage sale last summer!" Funny how one's mind races from "I should buy this" to "wait a minute, I got rid of this"! Further searching of the shelves found many of the same dish pattern scattered around in no particular order. "Well for heaven's sake, they aren't even arranged together. This is a terrible sales approach!" By this time I am having quite a conversation with myself. "Why are these dishes not selling? These are cute dishes! I only got rid of them because my daughter has some Fly Lady approach to streamlining, and my dishes fell into her path. And then, the ultimate realization: "These are my dishes"!
The thing is, they didn't sell at my garage sale, and now I found them cast off by Goodwill, and still sitting on the shelf at a thrift store that isn't even a major name thrift store. A little part of me is feeling rejected.
After the garage sale last summer my daughter boxed up all the leftovers (after I fled the scene) and she immediately drove them to Goodwill. Sometimes it is difficult parting with things, even though it is the logical thing to do. "I might need that later on", I think.
I do the same thing with all those fabric scraps. "I know I can use that", so it gets saved in a box with others of its kind. I think if you are a scrapper, that logic prevails in other aspects of your life.
But how many remnants does one need, whether they be dishes or fabric or something else? This question remains unanswered. But one thing I do know. Sometimes we have trouble letting go, even when it makes perfect sense to do so.
