la purga

This week we are having a bit of a house purging.

Trust me, it is pathetically long overdue.

I admit that I am a pack rat, always have been. My husband married me, and my stuff, and its not like he walked into the whole thing blindly. But recently, with the addition of a new family member, our small house has gotten too small and so we have to purge. I don't know if it is a Mars/Venus thing or a Chrissy/Matt thing but clearly I put emotional attachments in things more than I ought to. As Matt so eloquently put it yesterday as he plead his case for me tossing a box of mini ceramic statues from my childhood:

"I keep things that I think to myself 'I can use that.' But you keep things that you say 'Oh, I remember that!'"

Now if I disregard the fact he threw his voice in a painfully obnoxious high pitched way when he said the "I remember that" part, I can actually see that what he said is true. I could point out that he keeps all sorts of weird random things that he feels he can use, like license plates ... but I would be shooting myself in the foot by pointing it out because we DO use those things. (The licence plates adorn our backyard bar.) I do keep things because of the memory they bring back. But I often keep stuff out of guilt.

So I am taking a small break from "la purga" because as I watched my nine year old agonize over a hotwheel because he remembered when he got that one I realized that its not a Mars/Venus thing but in-fact a "Chrissy" thing ... one I clearly passed on to him.

Oops.