Bringing all my Clothes Over
Hard to believe that this is our last weekend at our old place. Did I get a lot done this weekend? Not really. I finally found white pillowcases for our living room. That was a win. I went to three different places and had no luck but my last stop had them... and on sale. There's a moral of the story there somewhere. In the afternoon, we went to the new place and unrolled our mattress. Oh! It be big and beautiful! I brought some more clothes over and realized I needed more hangers. I have now purchased an additional 90 hangers. I have a problem.
I love clothes. I truly do. I don't need designer labels, I just need lots and lots of clothes. And I have lots and lots of clothes. I don't shop that much but my mother gives me a ton (last trip to Berlin I arrived with 1 kilo of stuff... left with 23 kilos of stuff - would have been more but I caught her trying to sneak more stuff in. She's fast) and I have a hard time parting with my clothes. The problem with so many clothes is that I sometimes forget what I have. And so that is why I decided on hanging racks for our new place. I want to see all my stuff. I want to walk in and nuzzle all my dresses, stroke all my blazers and feel up my skirts. I have a problem.
I have always loved clothes and when I was a kid, if I had known that fashion designer was a real job, I would have made that my life goal. Any job that I dreamt of having as a kid was only based on what I could wear for that job. Flight attendant? I literally lost my mind when I flew as a kid and saw all of their uniforms. Princess? Oh God yes! The clothes! The hats! The jewels! Lawyer? Suits! Lots and lots of suits! I also had a thing for uniforms. Screw merit badges and camping. I became a Brownie for the uniform. To this day I still remember when some brat stole my sock braces from under the toilet stall when I was changing into my uniform. THEY PULLED THE WHOLE OUTFIT TOGETHER! I think I left the troop soon after that. My parents used to say that I would have probably been first in line for Hitler youth just for the uniform. I probably wouldn't have been accepted, seeing that I am Jewish and a good person and all.
So yes, my clothes are incredibly important to me. So far today, I have brought about 3 Ikea bags full of clothes and I still have a couple more to bring over. This is of course in addition to the 10 bags I have already brought over the past few weeks. I have a problem. And if everything fits onto the hanging racks, I will declare it a miracle. And it better fit because then I will be dealing with a smug, jerk of a husband who will say "I told you we should have brought the wardrobe to the new place" and then I would have to put him in a choke hold and that's just not fun. So off I go, to bring more crap over and yes, one day I will wear that bridesmaid dress again.
I love clothes. I truly do. I don't need designer labels, I just need lots and lots of clothes. And I have lots and lots of clothes. I don't shop that much but my mother gives me a ton (last trip to Berlin I arrived with 1 kilo of stuff... left with 23 kilos of stuff - would have been more but I caught her trying to sneak more stuff in. She's fast) and I have a hard time parting with my clothes. The problem with so many clothes is that I sometimes forget what I have. And so that is why I decided on hanging racks for our new place. I want to see all my stuff. I want to walk in and nuzzle all my dresses, stroke all my blazers and feel up my skirts. I have a problem.
I have always loved clothes and when I was a kid, if I had known that fashion designer was a real job, I would have made that my life goal. Any job that I dreamt of having as a kid was only based on what I could wear for that job. Flight attendant? I literally lost my mind when I flew as a kid and saw all of their uniforms. Princess? Oh God yes! The clothes! The hats! The jewels! Lawyer? Suits! Lots and lots of suits! I also had a thing for uniforms. Screw merit badges and camping. I became a Brownie for the uniform. To this day I still remember when some brat stole my sock braces from under the toilet stall when I was changing into my uniform. THEY PULLED THE WHOLE OUTFIT TOGETHER! I think I left the troop soon after that. My parents used to say that I would have probably been first in line for Hitler youth just for the uniform. I probably wouldn't have been accepted, seeing that I am Jewish and a good person and all.
So yes, my clothes are incredibly important to me. So far today, I have brought about 3 Ikea bags full of clothes and I still have a couple more to bring over. This is of course in addition to the 10 bags I have already brought over the past few weeks. I have a problem. And if everything fits onto the hanging racks, I will declare it a miracle. And it better fit because then I will be dealing with a smug, jerk of a husband who will say "I told you we should have brought the wardrobe to the new place" and then I would have to put him in a choke hold and that's just not fun. So off I go, to bring more crap over and yes, one day I will wear that bridesmaid dress again.
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