I was thiiiiiis close to inviting a woman who works on my floor to lunch today. She’s maybe a couple years older than me, so maybe 40, and one of the few people I’ve seen squirrel away food in the kitchen the way that I do. We’ve had a couple decent conversations about farmers markets and stuff we like to eat. But I lost my nerve after today, when she came into the office wearing a tight black turtleneck and a shiny belt over black bicycle shorts… over black striped pantyhose and black stilettos. And there was nothing ironic about the fashion statement she was trying to make from what I could tell. I overheard her telling another girl that she had asked herself if she could “pull it off” before she put it on this morning.

I’m so ashamed of myself for making any sort of judgments based on what she’s wearing. However, I just can’t do it. I was afraid lunch with her would take on a creepy Robert Palmer video feeling after just a few minutes. I feel like an a-hole.
The other thing I’ve been grappling with is the realization that I am far too attached to my “stuff”. Here I am trying to pack up our house for the move in a couple of weeks, and I have mountains of things I do not need. Way more clothes than I will ever wear, more DVDs than I’ll have the time to watch, stacks of books I tell myself I’ll “get to”, 4 boxes of sewing projects, bags of beans and seeds I told myself I was going to sprout myself in mason jars for salads, cultures of things in the fridge I’m supposedly going to get back to use for fermenting beverages, this sad looking collection of over 60 varieties of epiphyllum cacti, weird pieces of jewelry and makeup and creams that I save as though I am ever going to wear jewelry and do my face on a regular basis or have any sort of skincare regimen. The list goes on. But I just could not bring myself to throw or give any of it away. The one thing I managed to toss was a 4 year old bag of Bob’s nonfat milk powder that I was going to use in a homemade ice cream recipe. Good for me.
I need to be talked into getting rid of a lot of my things. I actually did fill three 13 gallon trash bags of clothes for the thrift store, but I could have parted with so much more. With clothes, I know I hang onto way too many things because I still envision that one day, I’ll live permanently on a tropical island and flit around in gauzy, flowy garments and open-toed shoes.
Alright. I have a meeting to run off to. So that is all for now.