Winter is not my enemy. I’m more of a cold weather fan than of the humidity and intolerable heat of summer. If anything might make me shiver, it’s going through the dreaded hat and mitten box. We all have them – those bottomless containers where gloves, mittens, scarves and hats from 1983 are still stored. Right around this time of year I drag the whole box out of the hall closet, attempt to match gloves back up, ask myself several times why there are seven different single gloves, toss the ones that are missing fingers before Spouse says those are his ‘good’ gloves, and wash everything else. I roll the scarves and place them neatly on one side, put the hats in the middle and layer the mittens and gloves on the other side. It looks like a department store display.
As soon as that first hand digs in for scarves, gloves, or hats, my neatly organized collection resembles the aftermath of a going out of business sale.
A couple of years ago I fell in love with big, fluffy, blanket scarves after seeing one that Second Born purchased in Budapest on her study abroad. Ironically, she got it at H&M instead of some unique Hungarian shop. I didn’t care where she found it, as long as I found one under the Christmas tree when she returned home (I did). The problem with blanket scarves is that they are, well, like a blanket. That equals about four regular scarves, a couple of hats and at least half a dozen wandering gloves.
I crammed that sucker into the box anyway. It pretty much blanketed everything else, making it even more of a challenge to find a winter cap that still fit. Eventually I got the hint and moved it to a hanger so I can grab it without swooping up several other items at the same time.
Then there is the rest of the closet. I have three winter jackets hanging in our hall closet. One of them fits but the zipper isn’t always cooperative and the pockets are ripped. Another jacket doesn’t really fit – it’s more of a ‘wish’ jacket. The third is… was my favorite. I got one year out of it when a nail snagged my arm and ripped a gash in an arm. That doesn’t sound like a big deal, I know. Someone should be able to repair it. There are plenty of seamstresses around here. Yes, there are – and not a one of them wants feathers anywhere near their business.
The first place I walked into with my jacket in two and the offending hole taped securely closed, the owner just about chased me out, saying she had prom and wedding dresses everywhere and could NOT afford to deal with feathers.
I didn’t even try to just show up with the offending piece of clothing for the second seamstress. I called first to ask if she would be willing to look at it.
“No! No-no-no – no feathers.” Well, all-righty then.
This year is going to be The Year of Winter Wear Renewal. Once I collect everything that is no longer used and donate it elsewhere, we’ll have more room and others will get good use of those kid-size caps and Grandma’s knitted mittens. Then we’ll realize we have nothing to wear, so naturally, the box will be refilled with new stuff. I refuse to get a bigger box because then I’d need a bigger closet to put it in, which leads to needing a bigger house.
I guess it’s cheaper to keep pushing down on that pile and deal with the hat, scarf, and glove treasure hunt of winter.