A rainy day is not the kind of day to be doing things outside. You could if you really wanted to, but Lacey Pellegrini opted to stay indoors and do boring inside chores.
She started with tackling the junk drawer, or as some people might call it: The place-where-we-put-the-things-we-will-never-use-again-but-like-to-pretend-that-we-will-one-day drawer.
Being very much a ‘just-in-case’ type of person, Lacey has often caught herself saying “I should keep this, just in case.” That may explain why she found a Ziploc bag containing ninety-five twist ties, a second Ziploc bag housing fifty-three elastics, and a third Ziploc bag keeping various lengths of twine safe just in case Lacey should ever need a six inch piece of twine, or one of its other roommates.
“Man, I have a lot of stuff in this drawer,” she said, and she was right. In addition to the three Ziploc bags, Lacey rediscovered an unused package of twenty-seven battery operated tea lights that she put in there when she moved in to her current place five years ago; you know, just in case the lights went out for an extended period of time.
“I wonder how much other crap I have piled up in this house,” she then said.
A quick trip to the basement told her that she had a lot of crap piled up in the house. There was the shelf of old linens she kept just in case she ever had a flood and needed some rags (seven towels, five hand towels, seven wash clothes, and two old sets of sheets in total). Then she moved on to counting the plastic grocery bags she had amassed over the years; you know, in case she needed to send a friend home with something: 427. Actually, it was more than 427. Lacey just gave up counting at that point once she had unravelled the bag containing the remains of a dead mouse.
“Gross,” Lacey said. Then she said, “If there’s mice living in my stash of grocery bags, then there’s likely mice living in my winter supply closet.”
It was more of a winter supply room than a closet, the place where Lacey stockpiled a host of sundries; you know, just in case she ever got snowed in. It was there that she counted thirty bars of soap, twelve bottles of dishwashing detergent, one hundred rolls of paper towels, one hundred and twenty rolls of toilet paper, seven bottles each of shampoo and conditioner, forty-eight boxes of facial tissue, and twenty boxes of tampons. At this rate, Lacey could be snowed in for a year and still have stuff left over.
“Why did I buy so much of everything?” Lacey asked herself. “Because, it was on sale. You got a good deal,” she then said to justify the insanity before her. Once she accepted the insanity for what it was, she was ready to tell herself what she should have told herself long ago.
“You have spent the better part of your life waiting for the sky to fall. Maybe it’s time to let go of those fears. And those 427 grocery bags.”