Clutter Busting Regret

I spent an unhappy hour rooting through a trunk this weekend, desperate to find a dress I thought I had thrown at the bottom of the heap, thinking it would never again fit me.

At the end of the mess, I realized again why I have so much junk cluttering my house and basement: nearly every time I do a clean sweep, I regret it, having dispatched items I later want.

The first time this happened was just a few weeks after my sweetie and I moved into our house. I was appalled by the sheer volume of crap I had moved, and I went on a big purge. At the bottom of one of the six bags of clothes, I had tossed the navy Italian leather pumps I had worn to my grade eight graduation. Yes, I already had size tens and a thing for shoes in grade eight.

I remember the shoes had been a big splurge at Beckers on the main street of Collingwood, $60 was a lot of money for a 13 year old girl's footwear in 1983, but they had classic lines and would last me forever, my mother justified.

They might have lasted me forever if I hadn't cleaned up that day. As it was, they were 21 when I let them go. The shoes had gone in and out of fashion twice, and the last time I'd worn them, a year previous, I'd blown out the side of one of them, and somehow, it hadn't dawned on me that I could get them fixed. Why I imagined anyone at the thrift store would want my 20-year-old, heavily damaged shoes, I can't say.

But that night, the very night I should have been proud of my clutter-busting tidiness, I was suddenly gripped by panic. Why, I could have repaired those shoes! Monday afternoon, I made my way to the store, but could find no evidence of the shoes in the stacks of stuff in there. Neither could I recognize the bag in which I'd stuffed them.

I've always regretted that little fit of tidying, and I think of the pang of regret every time my sweetie sighs over the disaster area we call a basement.

Every summer, I plan to do a big cleanup, especially when the weather gets really really hot. Where better to spend a crazy hot day than a cool basement? But then I'm gripped by the familiar panic - what if I throw out something I will need later?

I'm certain the latest item I've mistakenly given away is a lovely little dress that didn't fit last summer or the summer before, but would fit me this year, if I could find it. I worry my careful tidying today will be my regret tomorrow.

I think it's likely time to apply for the TV show, Hoarders. If things continue this way, in about a year, my house will be reality-ready.