Let me try and replicate a recent conversation in our house and see if you can guess the exact object of this conversation.
Chad begins, “I don’t know, sweetheart. It doesn’t look that bad to me.”
Julie:“Honey, no. It’s time for it to go.”
“I think these have at least another year or two in them. Maybe even the first term.”
“They had a year or two left four years ago. Time to say goodbye. I mean, look at the frazzled edges at the bottom of this one, and the fading colors.”
“But…” A long pause hangs in the air. Chad doesn’t really have an argument.
That’s right, you guessed it, Julie and I have been reinvigorating, or in Chad’s (my) case, resuscitating, our wardrobe. And the object of conversation is my clothes. I think it’s the first time I’ve shuffled through clothes systematically in, well, ever. Every other move we’ve taken I’ve simply stuffed the old clothes in a suitcase (as a single–replace with duffle bag) at the last second. But this time I actually have some temporal breathing room, and a monetary motivation.
The major reason for the restyling process, aside from my frazzled and stained clothing, is moving to a country on the Euro. Clothes are going to cost 30-40 percent more in Spain, and we plan on our first term lasting four years. Thus, the last 2 days, Julie and I went through everything, and then we tried to buy clothes that will last for just that long.