This is why I’m not allowed to buy any more black shirts
In the downsizing for his big move to Toronto, Kalev gave me his dresser ((I realize I haven’t blogged about Kalev moving to T.O. It’s too sad to blog about, imho. In short, he’s gone there for grad school and I’m sure he’ll have a blast and make tonnes of new friends, but it leaves me without my Kalev to hang out with! Boo!)). This has prompted me to work through my wardrobe, much of which has, up until now, been piled on the shelves seen on the photo below. I’m working on deciding what’s worth keeping and what to give to the thrift store. As I get things organized, I’m emptying these shelves to put more shelf-appropriate items ((such as books or photos)) on them and put my clothing into the dresser ((I’ve been dresser-less for quite some time now)). As you can see by the messy pile on the second shelf, I’m only part way through my work, but the top shelf shows you why I’ve forbidden myself to buy any more black shirts.
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Tags: clothing, rampant consumerism, rampant narcissism, shirts
While I hope that Kalev loves Toronto, I am not sure that he will love it as much as Vancouver. You never know — he may come back!
Also – boo that you never got your childhood dresser back. Want me to rough someone up to get it? I'll be there in just over two weeks…
LOL! I might just take you up on that offer of roughing someone up. =)