Clothes Quarters

As someone who has been known to lament how many items of clothing I own, I found the Weed Out Your Closet in a Year technique of hanging all of one's clothes backwards, flipping them back to the correct mode of hangage after one has worn a piece of clothing, and then donating all unflipped-for-a-year items to be... well, a brilliant concept.

"Let's start at the very beginning: a very good place to start..."

Then I had that moment when I realized that that method would only cause me to declare, "A challenge!" and then proceed to turn it into a game in which I made it my goal to wear every piece of clothing in my closet before the year was up (bonus points for reaching the goal within six months!), thus nullifying the point.

Which is the problem, really. I do eventually end up wearing all of my clothes (even if I've worn a particular dress only twice within as many years), and it has the added bonus of not having to do laundry all that often (I seem to harbor a small fear of my washer breaking or suddenly finding myself having only enough money to pay for room and board, which helps me justify keeping all the clothes—I kid you not).

Am I crazytown? Does anyone have any suggestions? Any ideas for tricking myself into getting rid of clothing?

Credit where credit is due:

• Clothes-on-hangers photo found on rayandjen.com.

The Lost Blog Snippet

Whenever inspiration rockets past my ear and slams into the nearest wall in a firestorm of 4th-of-July sparklers and cartoon squirrels, I try to capture it by quickly opening a new e-mail message page and typing furiously before the visions seared into my corneas fade away. (Note to self: Purchase fire extinguisher.)

This happened a few weeks prior to my wedding. The writing below is the result.

My outlook on getting everything done for the wedding:

June 30, 1700-ish: "We have gobs of time."

July 1, 0400-ish: "WE HAVE NO TIME."

Seriously. Nico and I spent a good 45 minutes or so sitting in James Avery discussing the pros and cons of getting a way-fancy ring versus a "work" ring or both (and by "discussing" I mean that Nico listens really intently to his neurotic fiancée).

The end!

But not really. Wedding brain still lives within me. Not the psychotic NOW-ALL-MY-SINGLE-FRIENDS-SHOULD-GET-HITCHED-TOO kind; the I'm-pretty-sure-I-had-plans-to-hang-out-with-Friend-X-on-Friday-but-it's-not-written-in-my-Outlook-calendar-so-I'm-beginning-to-question-my-sanity kind.

Outlook and iCal are my second (and third?) brain(s?).

And this handsome fellow married me anyway (and is still married to me, four-ish months later).

Leave it to me to manage to make it look like he's sticking his finger up his nose.

P.S.: For those of you who are wondering about the outcome of the 45-plus-minute conversation about rings, we went with the "work" rings. Holla atcha, James Avery (who didn't pay me to write about the company's wares)!