A single boy's coat may not seem like much, but this one represents the cleaning and organizing of our entire coat rack. It's still incredible to me that, among the two or three dozen coats on the rack, only this outgrown winter coat of Sam's is extra.
The Minimalists are my new role models. I watched a video of them showing what they pack on road trips. It all fit into a very small carry-on, really more of a knapsack. You can imagine the contents: three pairs of underwear, one pair of shorts, one pair of black jeans, two shirts. A toothbrush.
You get the idea.
Our coat rack isn't exactly like that. It's got lots of coats on it, more than the Minimalists, more than an average family of four, circa 1947. More than a family on state aid. More than we need, probably.
But Michigan winters are harsh, and none of our coats are exactly alike. Yes, I have two of boiled wool, but one is dressy black, knee-length, suitable for a professional setting, and one is a short Patagonia jacket, suitable for a brisk walk on a cool day. Rain jackets, one lined, one not. Very warm down for the worst winter day, light down for day-to-day comfort. A pea coat. Leather to stay safe and warm on my scooter (Eddie Bauer for $20 at a garage sale!). A down vest for late fall, not too hot, not too cold.
So finding one unneeded coat on the rack, and organizing the rest for easy access, was the best I could do, at least for today. Because I'm determined not to get rid of anything I would want to replace in six months, when day 365 is behind me.
Right now, I can still hear crickets and frogs singing on this early fall evening, outside my bedroom window. But I can feel it in the cool winter nights. I can see it in the soft light of noon. Winter is coming.
Bring it on. I've got the wardrobe.
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