No, not a sexual exploit to detail, far more mundane. It’s mid May, time to fold up and put away the sweaters and pull out the summer duds.
As I’ve acknowledged on more than one occasion, I’m a fan of anthropomorphism. No need to reach for your Merriam-Webster if you’re not familiar; its the attribution of human characteristics or behavior to a god, animal, or object. In my case it occurs primarily with animals (though its almost an insult to animals) and objects. Gods and me wave to one another periodically but that’s about it. So mostly objects.
During the bi-annual pull out and put away, there’s a lot of “anthropomorphing” going on. I bid adieu to the cold weather clothes, maybe say a small prayer (okay okay summon them there Gods) that we are both around in October to greet one another. There is a thank you for their service, apologies to any of them who did not get a good rotation, a promise for a re-look next season. And with that a crisp tight fold and into the put away bin they go.
Full disclosure, some do not make the journey. To those loyal friends there is a remembrance of the wear times, or possibly a recollection of opportunities missed, due to shape, size, or worst – bad positioning in the closet.
If we’re going Donny and Marie, the put away is the “twilight side of the hill” portion of the song.
And then there is Marie’s “morning side of the mountain”. As a summer gal, one who loves the morning, and would rather sweat than shiver, this is a happy time. 5 possibly 6 months are on the horizon – opportunities to bond with shorts and sundresses abound, but…
The conversation begins, hola cute top, is this the summer I lose the pudge and do you justice? Or maybe lose the inhibitions and just say fuck it, your style will carry us both. To relegate you to the back of the closet is just stupid.
And like the friends that don’t make the journey to the put away, some end their journey on the initial pull out. They don’t actually make it to the closet. Instead they go on to the home of slimmer, younger, sometimes braver, sometimes equally zany body via donation. And some are weary, they ask to be released of further service, no more bodies, but maybe hang around for a bit as a cotton wash cloth. As much as possible I try to accommodate
Whether a pull out or a put away, the process involves hope. Hope for what is immediately possible, hope for forward looking events. Hope can’t cure all, but it ain’t bad in your arsenal.
Lastly, this year, we had a rare occurrence, a find during the put away. Mr. Purple Smithwick had been pining for months for Mrs. Smithwick. He knew she had not left on her own accord, something nefarious had happened, but he too held out hope for her return. And there in the folds of a flannel sheet being readied for the put away, the Mrs. was discovered.
And for a moment, all was right in the land of Pull Out and Put Away.
Talk soon
Hope to see you along the way