East Meadow Woman Cleans Bedroom; Wood Uncovered!

I recently decided to confront some of the many piles of clutter populating my bedroom before a tragedy occurred. Opening a window had become a task worthy of the show "Wipeout;" I tripped and almost broke my leg several times.

We had gotten a mailing from Big Brothers and Sisters requesting old clothes, which motivated me to get going. I discarded quite a few items from my closet, but everything had been so squished in that it made no noticeable difference. I also sorted out the piles of papers and files I had brought home from my recent layoff. It had taken me a month to even be able to look at them; I was proud of myself for finally tackling them.

Next, my husband decided it was time to sort through his armoire to make room for some new clothes I had recently bought for him. I truly wish I could have seen the looks on the faces of the Big Brothers and Sisters folks who sorted through his discards. I know what they were thinking: the '80s called, they want their look back! He still had some of the same shirts from when we met in 1984. I guess they were in style back then, but they really hadn't held up to the test of time. I was ruthless, donating about 75 percent of his shirts.

The colors, the fabric, the patterns -- oy! It reminded me of the Seinfeld episode where Elaine drops off unwanted muffin stumps (bottoms) from her new business, "Top of the Muffin to You!" at a homeless shelter. The director of the shelter shows up, completely offended by the implication that homeless people will eat anything. Will they wear anything? One can only hope they gave his clothes to the color-blind. Who knows, maybe they ended up burning them.

Yesterday we received a card with a bag to fill from the Lupus Foundation of America, another worthy organization. My kids have several laundry baskets' worth of clothing in the basement, supposedly waiting to be washed. It's obviously nothing they really need, as the same clothes have been down there for many months and their closets are still overflowing; they still store their clean laundry on the floor.

I've been eyeballing those abandoned items, because I suspect the kids would prefer to help the needy rather than actually do a load of laundry. I could fill several bags with their excess.

A line highlighted on the postcard from the Lupus Foundation tickled me: "We Especially Need Your Knick-Knacks!" I wondered, "Why? Why do they need my knick-knacks?" Food, clothing, shelter--these I could see helping the needy. But knick-knacks? What about tchotchkes? (gotta love Spell-check; it suggested "chortles" there). How about bric-a-brac? Paddy whacks? Why would they possibly need these things? I couldn't help but imagine a homeless person pushing a shopping cart full of little figurines, wearing one of my husband's awful 80s shirts.

Then I actually read the fine print at the bottom of the postcard, which stated, "We sell your donated goods to private companies by annual bid. Those funds support critically important lupus education and research efforts," etc. OK, now this makes sense. I get rid of some of the clutter, they sell it and pass the proceeds on to research this incurable disease. It's a win-win.