One of my millennial friends asked me this week if I was a hoarder. Emphatically I said no. WTF. I’m so not a hoarder. But, I told him this story.
My little Ladybug and I cleaned out her room the other day to clear the room for the the new flooring. She moved into the sewing/art room. As all of my artistic boxes and crates entered the living room I realized that yes, I’m a hoarder of projects. I’ve held on to wool sweaters which I was going to make into knee crawlers for my baby grandkids who are now walking so there goes that project. The lace tablecloths and napkins which were to be skirts. The fix it projects for some new outfits and the vintage sewing accoutrements which I’m also going to let go. Never mind the vintage linens from when I had a resale shop. All that said, I’m going to keep one box. A proclivity of handkerchiefs, family linens, and the dirndl that I once wore as a young child.
Honestly, I worte the top two paragraphs at least a month ago. I released. Oh baby, seven boxes of books entered our local library, and two enormous bags of sewing accoutrements were passed on to the two local young seamstresses whom I knew would cherish the stash that I cared for the past thirty plus years.