Yesterday was Space Bag Day. The fun-filled day where I swap my winter/summer wardrobes around.
It’s fun. As in, it’s not.
From the Space Bags that live under my bed, I pull out the clothes that I haven’t seen in about six months – the off-season clothes, the clothes that previously didn’t fit and all my bridesmaid dresses and other finery that only get worn once in a lifetime.
But emptying Space Bags usually goes like this:
- Pull everything out of a Space Bag
- Decide that half of the contents are either too daggy, too loose or too tight and then they are ceremoniously thrown in the “that’ll go to charity eventually” pile
- The other half gets dutifully hung up (in colour order, of course) or folded away, unless it’s creased, then I’ll wash it in the hope that it’ll dry with less creases in it cause ironing involves too much bloody effort
- Repeat for each Space Bag.
When it comes to re-stocking Space Bags, I always have the best intentions for organisation and neatness.
Emphasis on intentions.
Stocking Space Bags usually goes like this:
- Organise all my stuff into categories
- Jackets and jumpers
- Work clothes
- Casual clothes
- Thermals, socks, scarves and other wintery accessories
- Fold everything nicely and neatly
- Carefully add contents to each Space Bag
- Find that the stuff doesn’t quite fit and just squish it all in — who cares about creases when I don’t have to worry about it until autumn anyways
- Go and find the vacuum cleaner and drag its sorry ass into the bedroom. Plug it in. It’s damn hard having to deal with vacuum cleaners when the robots now control the house
- Seal the Space Bags and suck the air out of those sukkas
- Realise that each Space Bag has some sort of hole or rip in it and that they don’t bloody work anyway and all that sucking was for nothing and just fold up the bloody bags and shove them under the bed and hope to hell that the cats don’t find their way into any of the Space Bags for a secret under-the-bed napping spot for the summer (this has happened, and it wasn’t pretty when I tried to get the fur off my favourite winter jumper from Oxford University).
Oh, and the clothes that are from the “that’ll go to charity eventually” pile get shoved into a big garbage bag and that bag sits in the hallway until I can be bothered dragging it down to the car to deposit it in one of those charity bins down near the supermarket. I used to donate my clothes to the Cat Protection Society Op-Shop, but they know us now and that’s kinda embarrassing when I’m offloading embarrassing clothing choices. Besides, I think the Op Shop is better for unwanted homewares like the Star Wars Cookbook than my old Jive Bunny jumpers with matching red trackpants. No matter how embarrassing, there are people who can’t afford to buy new (or ANY) clothes.
No, this post isn’t sponsored by Space Bags. But it should be. Though, it was sponsored by the sugar high that is Frozen Coke. Whee!