Once, no, make that twice a year I clean out the old. Not in the way my mother gives her furniture away, but in the form of the closets. Yesterday three big bags of garbage, lots of worn to pieces shoes. Two additional bags of too big clothing for N. Just in time since she has recently lost about 20 pounds.

I had a bag I kept in fear of gaining weight. I had to let the fear go and give them to someone that can make use of them.

That wasn’t the hard part.

When you walk into my apartment the first thing you see is my coat closet. The bane of my OCD existence. It keeps not only the coats but is my only storage for things like holiday decorations and assorted “stuff”. I normally have no issue with organizing anything, but the extremely large white box I have kept in there has taken up most of the floor space and …….

I keep saying “I’ll open it”. I never do. It’s like Pandora’s box in the form of bad and good memories. Yesterday after taking everything out of the closet and cleaning it. I took a deep breathe and said it’s now or never. A part of me had hoped the preservation was shit and it was in tatters, but no, it was still perfect, crisp, white, even the veil was not tarnished with the eleven years it sat in the box.

I did find it amazing that the outer box had a very long dead bee in it. Something so poisonous to me. I forgot how heavy it was, how much detail was on it. How unlike anything I would ever pick out. I hung it up and continued to organize the closet and after closing the door and re-opening it, I felt….nothing. No tears, no longing for a re-do. So I took it back out to inspect it. Some of the beading was coming off, nothing I can;t fix. What I thought would be stained from that nights thunder storms was cleaned and perfect. The though passes my mind to sell it on this Russian second hand site or do I stick to the plan to hem it into a Halloween costume that I would be able to wear? No decision has been made, but for now this dress no longer takes up space, it’s there and I can’t seem to put it in the garbage, but it’s not in any way the big deal I thought it would be.

I didn’t tell Sir about this because I knew I could write about it in a better way than I could speak of it. I did tell L and in L fashion he was upset. I told him, yes, it’s a sad reminder, but life moves on and this is proof that mine has.

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