Page Two of The Third ResolutionMy eyes are finally beginning to see things in a new light. Recurring nightmares about carrying luggage wherever I go finally brought me to the understanding much of this stuff is ‘baggage’, weighing me down both physically and emotionally. I have resolved to simplify and lighten the load. My goal is to see measurable progress, however slow.
This week I tackled my bathroom. It seemed small enough to conquer, yet worthy enough to provide a satisfying sense of accomplishment. How bad could one tiny bathroom be? It really only consists of a medicine cabinet and that spooky realm under the sink.
Two bars of fancy perfumed soap from a line of cosmetics my mother sold during the 1960's were excavated. I successfully got past the first hurdle, "These are too nice to use." Soap manufactured while I was still in high school can’t be expected to maintain that same level of specialness indefinitely. I wasn’t able to actually contemplate, even for a minute, throwing away perfectly good soap. So, one bar now rests in a soap dish by the kitchen sink where I have since discovered that ‘perfectly good soap’ doesn’t stay that way forever. I have new appreciation for the expression ‘working up a lather’.
I did a better job thinning out my outdated cosmetics. Old mascara and frazzled toothbrushes hit the trash bag without hesitation. It was the lipstick that tripped me up. Many were included as ‘free’ gifts in small makeup purses with the purchase of expensive facial products. Others were the result of impulse buying under unnatural department store lighting. More than half of the colors looked absolutely hideous with my skin tone.
Yet I had paid hard earned money (even for the ‘free’ lipsticks) and there wasn’t anything really wrong with any of them. They weren’t broken, melted, or old. They just weren’t my color and no matter how long I kept them, they never would be. I worked through my torment and flung the offending tubes into the trash, never to mock my poor judgment again.
Next I unloaded the medicine cabinet and cleaned all the surfaces. None of the contents had passed expiration dates. All I needed to do was a bit of reorganizing. Still feeling smug about the War of the Lipsticks, I was actually almost enjoying the process.
The satisfaction was short-lived, however. After arranging jars, tubes and bottles in neat rows according to function, I stood back to admire my handiwork. Squinting my eyes with the hope that what I saw before me was only an illusion, I tried to fathom how my grandmother’s medicine cabinet had come to hang on my bathroom wall.
The inventory included lotion for age spots, bunion pads, night cream, industrial grade toenail clippers, corn protectors, arthritis cream, nasal spray, skin firming moisturizer, mentholated vapor rub and lip balm. When did I inherit Grandma’s stuff?
Wait ... I remember. I’m the grandma now and all this is my very own stuff!
My third and final spring resolution is that as the current ruling matriarch, I can bequeath any and all leftover stuff that survives the first two resolutions to my descendants without remorse. It feels good to be the queen!
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