To put up a closet rod in the new closet, I needed a closet rod and brackets. Alas the only ones I owned that were even close to the right length were already holding up a bunch of seasonal clothes. So I tore it all down and scavenged the hardware. Then I did something I keep meaning to do…
I sorted through all the shit that had been hanging in the powershed.
A little backstory, long-time readers already know this: I was comically unprepared for the winter of 2008-2009, which I spent almost completely alone and without reliable transport. Occasionally thought I’d freeze and/or starve, and the experience left me a bit (more) neurotic about being prepared next time. Among other quirks I couldn’t turn down a free coat or sweater, no matter how inappropriate, worn-out or hyper-redundant. Came the time I had so many coats and sweaters there wasn’t room to store them all. I’m still getting rid of them. And now of course I a) have a really nice winter work coat and don’t need to scrounge or improvise, and b) am completely revamping my seasonal storage arrangement, moving essentials indoors and away from the rats for the first time. It’s time to finish paring down the third-hand winter coats.
By “paring down,” I mean haul them to town and dump them in the donation bin behind the local thrift store. Quite to my surprise I’ve ended up donating more than I buy there, because neighbors tend to give me first refusal on their cast-offs and TUAK readers are incredible.
So anyway I was getting ready to load stuff into the Jeep for the Monday morning water run and I wanted this stuff out of my yard. But on the top of one pile was my old shooting jacket, from when I used to compete with a rifle…
…and I thought, “What’s the thrift store going to do with that?” And it occurred to me, belatedly, that I knew somebody who did know what to do with it, assuming he didn’t already own a dozen better. So I texted Ian with a picture, asking if he wanted it. He replied sure, and so I told him the circumstances. And he wrote back,
“Taking stuff TO the thrift store, eh? How bourgeoisie of you! ”
And that gave me my first good laugh of the morning, is all. You could apply many descriptors to me, several of them truthfully negative. But “bourgeois” would not be among them.