Yes it has gotten rediculous
A marvelous thing has happened.
I brought clothes to school without abandon. At the beginning of the year, before I decided that five am mornings were not my forte, I packed clothes for rowing. In midwinter, I brought my sweater hoarde. I brought tons of clothes - I have been a chronic overpacker ever since I once got caught unawares by a downpour during a cross country meet and spent my time huddled in the back of a damp school bus that smelled like green vinyl, damp, and sweat. I've never been caught off-guard again.
My dresser used to vomit clothes, and the roommate would make comments about her concern for my clothes and sweaters. I can never tell what she means by these comments - does she really mean she is the one concerned by the huge mess? But whenever I confront her, she says no, no, she is being altruistic about my clothes. I guess I'll just take her at face value.
It wasn't much fun, though, to have drawers explode when all I wanted was that grey t-shirt (one of the fifteen that I own) that happened to be wedged into the left back corner. So, finally, I took a cold eye to the clothes. "Out!" I said, to the ones I no longer wore nor loved. Bark-brown, perpetually wrinkled shirt? Cross country invitational from freshman year, dear but ripped? Strange lacy number? Pink shirt with mysterious stain? Out, out, out. They now live under the window seat, in the realm of sawdust and unaccessable rubbish, suitcases and books that aren't special enough for the shelves. They will return home with my father when he takes me back to school after Spring Break.
I neatly repacked my dresser, lovingly folding the grey t-shirts and attempting to pair the socks. The room has been looking good lately, if only there were a working vacuum in the dorm. Cluttered surfaces have been cleaned off, I even excavated my desk (it's covered in papers again, of course, but it did look pretty sharp for a while there).
But my marvelous thing! I mustn't forget about it. I wound up with a whole empty drawer. The big one, too, at the bottom of the dresser. And I realized that, not even deliberately, I made it my toy chest.
It has my scarf and mittens, for playing in the snow. My nintendo games, because I am now in the possession of the real thing, and it has proved to be a huge amount of fun. My calvin and hobbes books, from many years ago. My kid brother and I loved calvin and hobbes like you wouldn't believe. At dinner we would get up from our chairs and act out the strips, usually laughing so hard no one could understand what we were saying, and generally annoying the adults. Momentos from Hell Week, which are funny and special and I like them - there's the bib I got to wear at lunch and other things. And then my camera. Handed down to me from my father, older than I am, and sorely neglected.
They're all things, but are special because of what they represent: fun.
Sometimes I am not having a lot of fun. Weird and depressing things have happened, which normally would mean I would be writing up a storm, but the sad things are not happening to me. So I can't. But it's good to have a drawer of fun. Even though it doesn't change things much in the end.
2001-03-06, I was informed that it had gotten rediculous
before / after archives / website / hello book / diaryland