William has accumulated enough clothing that the little dresser that came with his bedroom outfit is just not big enough. I pondered around how to solve this problem and came up with a solution. In a closet of another spare bedroom, there is a a tall dresser that belonged to my grandmother and grandfather. I am not at all sure how it came to be in my house. It must have come from my parents at some point, but I don't remember exactly when. It is old and plain and matches his sturdy plain bedroom outfit (inherited from his aunt).
The best part was that while it had the same 'footprint' as William's little dresser, it was much taller and would easily hold double the clothing. The old fashioned drawer dividers would allow me to separate his underwear from his socks, and still have plenty of room for his PJs. An entire drawer for longsleeved shirts. Another for shortsleeved shirts, and an entire drawer for blue jeans. It was perfect.
Except for the fact that it was currently stuffed with hunting clothes. I was pretty sure that Tim hadn't actually looked inside that dresser for years, so I made up my mind that we would go through it and then swap the two dressers out.
I got Tim to help me move the dresser into the front hall upstairs. I began to empty it out. The top drawer contained papers. The paperwork for when we bought the boys' house in Williamsport where they went to college. Saved us a fortune on tuition. Both boys are in their midthirties now and that house was sold when they graduated. Taxes from 2000 - 2004. Check receipts from an account we closed out long before we ever moved into town, and we've been here for 11 years, probably longer. Old cords that went to things that we probably haven't had for years. We found ourselves squinting at cords and asking questions like "Motorola? What did we ever have that was a Motorola?"
Yeah. Quite a bit of pitching out. I don't think we kept one thing. The paperwork made a happy glow in the fireplace.
The other three drawers were also amazing. I found no less than 8 knit caps. I cannot tell you the number of times that Tim has wondered where all his knit hats have gone. I looked at Tim. "Huh," he said.
Long johns. New long johns that his thrifty wife had obviously bought him at end of season while they were on sale. They were still in their store packaging. Lots of long johns, tops and bottoms. I looked at Tim. "Huh," he said.
I think that he was getting a little embarrassed at himself. I pulled out two pair of fleece lined jeans. "Those are too warm," he said. "I prefer the flannel lined jeans."
I started a stack of clothes to be taken to the Goodwill. Continuing on, I found a hooded sweatshirt he was pleased to see.
I found a pair of hunting pants. He said, "I'm pretty sure those don't fit," but he ducked into the bathroom to try them on and came out to drop them in the Goodwill pile.
I found a gas mask, an old army issue gas mask with unopened filters. "For pete's sake, Tim!" I said. He said nothing at all, but snatched it up to squirrel it away someplace else.
There were trigger finger mittens and leather gloves. Multiples of everything. A veritable treasure trove. Tim went through and picked what he wanted to save. In the bottom drawer, I found the real treasure however. There were nearly two dozen pairs of wool socks, some of them worn, some of them brand new. It was astounding.
I looked at Tim and Tim cleared his throat. "I don't like wool socks," he said.
I said, "Well, you might try telling people this bit of news." I was probably looking at several years of Christmas gift giving.
However, this wasn't really a bad discovery, because you know who likes wool socks? Me. I like them quite a lot. I was in my glory. There is nothing more wonderful than nice wool socks for padding around a house with hardwood floors in the winter time. Oh, the joy of socks! I began sorting through this treasure with real enthusiasm and wound up keeping a dozen pair. The rest went in the Goodwill pile.
(Nobody needs two dozen pairs of wool socks, not even me.)
(But then nobody needs a gas mask either, yet here we are.)
Not being in a mood for socks, Tim wandered off downstairs. I polished up the old dresser and slid it into William's room on a throw rug. I moved it into place and transferred everthing out of the little dresser into the new supersized dresser. The long johns and knit caps left over from Tim's hunting stuff fit into the little dresser with room to spare. I slid that dresser back into the spare bedroom closet and shut the door.
William wandered upstairs later to work on his Lego. Uncle Dylan and Aunt Brittani gave him a 2500 piece set for his birthday. It's for ages 18+. He's working on it one pouch at a time and is hopeful to complete it before his 18th birthday.
"That's a nice dresser," he commented. I enthusiastically showed him how easy it would be to keep his clothing organized and easy to find. "Huh," William said, in an uninterested voice.
I gathered up a dozen pair of wool socks and headed into our bedroom to put them away. 12 pair of bulky wool socks take up quite a bit of room in a drawer.
Suddenly the dresser in our bedroom is no longer big enough.
"Huh," I said.