NIP IT IN THE BUD

So just what is it that you need to cut out of your life? We all have them, you know. Things that clutter, things that are bad for us, things useless but maybe a bit addictive. As a service to you, Loyal Reader(s), I'm here to listen today. To let you unload on me. I'm the one in the chair. You're on the couch.

Let's look at your closet. Why? Because that's what I'm waiting for a rainy day to do. Maybe like me, you have old, old, decade old shirts that you still wear. The classicest (I know, that's not a word, but I like it) is my wife who still on occasion wears a skirt our daughter had in junior high school). But I needed not go there with some of the ancient shirts I have. Also, I have shirts, especially pants with various sizes due to my fluctuating weight. I have at least moved some of the smaller sizes I no longer fit in to the left of my wearables. So maybe that's a starting point. But when I lose the extra unwanted pounds, I don't seem to have trouble donating the bigger sizes. Go figure.

And the garage. We once attended a party at a teammate of our daughter's traveling softball team. It was mostly outdoors, with big yard, pool, lawn chairs. But the food was set up in the immaculate garage. I know it wasn't just for the party. This guy had a garage that was nicer, at least cleaner than many hotel rooms I've stayed in. I'm always reminded of that when I go to clean mine. Which reminds me. After years of looking at an outside thermometer hanging on our patio wall, I splurged and bought a new one. One I could read. One that was not fogged over by years of direct Arizona sun bleaching, scorching, steaming. It cost me $9.99. So I ripped the dirty plastic casing off and tried to re-claim the old one for the garage. After having spent some Euros this Summer in south France to buy one with real mercury in it. It is hanging in the garage by the back door, but I still tried unsuccessfully to salvage the old one. And, And, And (just so you know it wasn't a typo, but for emphasis) it still sits in the corner of my garage. I, pack rat, can't seem to be able to discard it. Or the bud is still dangling.

Church bulletins. Or programs or Views or whatever you call the handouts you're given when entering a worship service. I have stacks of them. They go back 20 years. A notetaker, I have notes on 1,000 sermons. Biblical references I jotted down, but never bothered looking up. I reminds me of when we kept our kids homework from grade school. We stored them in a room in the upstairs with other stuff we couldn't part with. Again, for 20 years.

So the scissors on the photo on the right need to come out again and do some clipping. Some snipping. Along with some proclamation that I am going to cut out some stuff in my life.

Now what were you saying?