38

The last of the cold is gone.  The sun is shining.  My skin is a nice pale shade of pink and everything else in sight is covered with a heavy coat of greenish-yellow powder.  I'm so thankful winter is over, although I do feel pretty guilty even complaining at all.  Comparatively speaking, the winter here was mild eventhough it was the coldest and wettest winter in nearly twenty years.

The change of weather brings about the seasonal change of my closet.  It's a huge deal and takes at least 2 days and usually more like 2 weekends since I can't devote full days to putzing around with my wardrobe.  Things get washed or dry-cleaned if necessary, folded and packed away in rubbermaid containers and hauled to the attic.  Containers are categorized by item and then color - just like the closet.  The new season's containers are hauled down and things are freshly laundered, pressed if needed and folded or hung up according to category.  It's a disease I don't know the name for. 

Then there's the shoes.  I quit counting them this year, but I did count the boots as I packed them away this year.  Yep, you guessed it -thirty-eight pairs of boots.  I have to admit there's two pair that should really go to the Goodwill, but I'm just not ready to part with them yet.  (See sweatshirt post if you have any doubts about me parting with my favorite things.)  There's the quintessential boots that I bought in NYC - knee-high, pointy-toe, stilletto, buckled and studded.   My favorite of the bunch is a pair of black cowboy boots that are a half size too big, making them extremely comfy.  Four pair are classified as punk boots, with my favorite pair of that bunch being a red tartan and black lace-up.  There's bronze boots, green boots, leopard print boots, embroidered boots, studded boots, thigh-high boots, ankle boots, quilted boots and those damn godforsaken sheepskin boots.

Most of the boots got lovingly packed away not to be seen again until the cold arrives.  Most of them.