Clothes

The first thing I did when I got home (after washing absolutely every single thing in my backpack-- anything I didn't pitch, that is) was to purge my wardrobe. I've never considered myself to be a girly-girl or someone obsessed with clothes, but I had ridiculous amounts of everything in my bureau(s) and closet(s), some of which hadn't been warn in literally a decade. (The dress code at my school was a bit more lax than previous places I'd worked-- altough not as lax as it was five years ago, alas-- and I decided that even if they don't hire me back, I don't really want to work some place where I need to wear a silk blouse. Ever. And that Little Black Bridemaid's dress that of course I would be able to wear again which hasn't been put on since September of 1997 went too.) Lucky for me, the woman who lives in the carriage house is opening a thrift store, so the ridiculously large pile of clothes that I amassed will go to good use.

But even with the great purge, I still have about ten times (maybe more) as many clothes now than I've had for the past seven months. Now I have choices to make. I thought that might make getting dressed in the morning a bit of a challenge with all the decisions (shorts or skort, printed t-shirt or plain), but it hasn't. No, what has happened is that now I seem to change my clothes four times a day. Seriously.

Today was this:
Jeans and grubby t-shirt first thing in the morning.
Yoga pants and top for yoga class.
Capris and different t-shirt to head into school to bring treats to my teammates.
And now, same capris (but different Chacos) and a tidy shirt to go the auction house and out to dinner.

Good lord, what has happened to me? Maybe tomorrow I'll try wearing the same outfit all day. Guess I just won't be able to go to yoga or do any gardening. Maybe I'll do both in my pajamas, and that will eliminate two outfits.