Every time I pack to move, I get rid of lots of things. Sometimes these are rash decisions, and sometimes I agonize. Today was an agonizing day, but I'm pretty sure I made the right decision.
I bought this sweatshirt over 20 years ago. It was one of the first purchases I'd ever made in the US, it was stupid expensive at the time ($50 is a lot of money when you're a scholarship student), and I needed it to fit in. It was also hella warm, which in Maine was necessary.
20 years is a long time to own something, especially a piece of clothing. Over the years, this sweatshirt lost a hood and cuffs, acquired stains - some mysterious, some from work - but I continued to wear it any time I wanted something comfy. Last week, while trying to keep warm in my eternally freezing house, I looked at the stained, torn hem and collar, and realized that if one wouldn't wear this outside the house, well, maybe one should no longer have this.
But I could not let it go completely. I cut out the lettering, and put it in my craft bin, in the vain hope to maybe, one day, make a silly pillow out of it.
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