Housemate
A two-minute observation about "the fetters of material existence".
Housemate
She twirls out into the kitchen this morning, dancing around in her new ruffled spring dress, an adorable print of pink roses. It has drop shoulders, a smocked bodice, an ankle length skirt with a flounce. “I got it at Ross!” she says, gleeful. “Fourteen bucks! Can you believe it?” She waits for my compliments, swinging the skirt flirtatiously back and forth.
In her closet, the clothes on hangers are jammed impossibly tight together; some spill out onto the floor. Clothing is noodled up on shelves and forgotten under her bed and crammed in a dresser and hung from the back of the door. Behind the rocker, clothes in shopping bags still have their tags, never worn. She proudly tells me, “I have forty-eight dresses.” I know for a fact she has at least seventeen pairs of shoes.
But it’s not enough.
Her bathroom counter is completely covered with bottles, jars and tubes. — so much makeup, so many lotions, potions, creams, serums, conditioners, soaps. In the shower are four bottles of shampoo, five bottles of body wash, body scrubs, body gels.
But it’s not enough.
On her desk is an iPad, an iPod, a MacBookAir, an iPhone, a Blue Tooth, a Fitbit, a GoPro camera, an ionic air purifier, and a snarl of necessary chargers, adapters, hubs, wires, and who knows what all.
She just keeps buying, and buying, ………… and buying. I’m guessing what she really needs is something that can’t be bought?
I have been guilty, Sharron, as you well know. Now we are spending our Spring UNdoing the retail therapy, with trips to charity and trashcans on the curb. My new therapy is a peaceful, clutter-free existence. It's working, and I can feel the relief, physically, and mentally. It's never too late to change. Thanks for the inspiring reminder, of why I am on this new path!
Your description of the wardrobe contents and outfit characteristics produced in me the confused look people give when I give computer technical explanations…