The attic is almost finished and I couldn’t be happier. Now I have somewhere to put stuff that I don’t want to look at. Like my childhood doll that mum took to the doll hospital and had repainted. She bought it a new dress and unfortunatley snapped it’s fat pink arm off while she was dressing it. Shame that. She was so happy with it that I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it gives me the creeps. So it can go in the attic.
So can all the outfits that Shaun brought up from his days of growing up in a small town. I concede that it’s hard when there are only about 5 shops and they all sell the same thing, but surely it’s time to get rid of them. We simply are never going to go to a fancy dress party where it’s appropriate to wear that… stuff.
Speaking of fancy dress, the suit that Shaun’s dad got married in can go up there. We borrowed it for a party that had a theme that I can’t even remember. (All I actually do remember about that party was that for some reason dad took a dingy out into the middle of the lake and managed to fall in.) It was a couple of hours drive away. Shaun squished himself into the suit (his dad isn’t a big man) and then managed to break the zip the first time he went to the bathroom. I don’t know whether it’s lucky or not that it got jammed down rather than up. Due to the particularly tight nature of the pants and the rather short jacket, there was no hiding it. Two hours was a bit far to drive to get changed. He tried to make me stand in front of him for the rest of the night.
My wedding dress can go up there. I wanted to sell it after the wedding but mum insisted that I keep it. She said I might want it one day. Why? For my next wedding? As a reminder that I’ll never be that tiny again? It cost $400 to clean and box up, for the love of god.
So this attic has the propensity to become a bit of a dumping ground. No house is complete without one.