Even a small apartment where everything has a place, has little caches of miscellaneous stuff. I have several. I've turned on a mindset that says, I won't save the planet just because I save those socks with the hole almost worn through the heel. This is a luxury and a duty -- in fact a very practical approach -- to moving. I started just now as I was about to get dressed and pulled on a pair of those socks -- 3, 4 years old? -- very nearly all worn through at the heel. No, I commanded myself, take them off, toss them in the wastebasket. Oh, said Miserly Me, they would make adequate dust rags. Fu-gid-about-it, said I, there are worn towels and wash cloths that will serve that purpose.
Furthermore this is a good time to take five minutes, go through all the assorted socks in the drawer and toss, toss, toss. Oh, ouch! That's so harsh! cried Miser Me. Force yourself, I commanded. And so I did. There were singletons stashed in a corner thinking their mates might return from that black hole beyond the drier into which they had been sucked -- out, out, damned sock! And so it went. Believe me, my sock drawer is now a marvel of neatness. A good thing too because flipflop weather is not far away. No need for socks until fall. But in the meantime, I must maintain that neatness after each wash day. I'll do it; I know I can.
There are other nooks and crannies -- oh, yes, I know where they are, I know [sort of] what's hiding there. I know, for instance, there's at least 15 years worth of pennies in Almaden white wine carafes. They weigh far more than they're worth. Just a couple blocks away is a First Republic bank with a coin counter in the lobby, anyone can use it. I suspect I have over $50 of pennies. I've given them to kids by the handful when they came by at Halloween collecting for UNICEF but those copper seem to multiply when I'm not looking. Got to get them out of here. I hardly think the circulation of this hard currency is going to do much for the economy; but I sure don't want to move with the things. I'm on a roll ... it's going to be hard when I get to certain accumulations of papers, but I'll practice on the underwear drawer next and move on to bigger challenges.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!