Carrol Vertrees: Sewing machine hums even without making a stitch

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Carrol Vertrees

Updated: February 2, 2012 8:09AM

It is resolution day again, and I feel absolutely giddy just thinking about mine. About Wednesday, though, withdrawal pains or pangs, may hit, forcing me to reconsider, so I should hurry.

But now in the glow of the annual new beginning, I feel the urge to dispose of some stuff that lies in corners of our condo, smirking, daring us to be strong.

Take our unused sewing machine, for example. Please. It has not sewed or stitched for years, but it refuses to leave. It sits there in our foyer, wrapped, ready to go. It went, briefly, a few months back when we took some stuff to the Salvation Army place, and after I carried it inside, Mrs. V slyly asked, “What did you just take in?”

I didn’t even answer. Instead, I marched back in and retrieved it, while a worker looked at me and frowned.

In the quiet of the night recently, I stood looking at it and I swear there was a faint sound of music coming from it. Imagination maybe, but it is a Singer, so maybe the sound was real. See why I want it out of the house?

The futility of removing stuff from garages, attics and closets is made clear to me when I remember what a former co-worker said about finding boxes left by his grandmother. One was labeled “Pieces of string too short to use.” I like that.

I thought of it when I examined my collection of ties, hanging there in my closet, unwanted, untouched. Some of them have been mutilated a bit, because at work I often used the newsroom scissors and snipped off the little end to make it all look even.

I kept some of those snipped ends, and they are in a box somewhere, pieces of ties too short to tie. I keep them for sentimental reasons, probably, helping me remember those wild and crazy days when I actually worked. It really doesn’t matter because in a vision years ago, I was told that wearing ties violated something, I forget what.

In another box, during one of my surreptitious searches, I found some material left over from alterations to trousers I discarded years ago, and some from what appears to be pieces of women’s slacks too short to wear.

This should be fun, and if I start tomorrow — my favorite day — this may be a big year for disposing of stuff too old or too short, or too tight in the waist.

In our hall closet, I notice that in the coat-jacket storage contest, I lose 11-3. We must have a discussion on that one, diplomatically, of course. I may as well throw out the lining from a raincoat that I no longer have — it might impress her — you know who or whom I mean.

In our music center thing, I have stored dozens of tapes, ones that can be played on a VCR — you know, the old-fashioned machine. One of the tapes records the marvelous retirement shindig co-workers threw for me and my dear late friend Terry O’Rourke. Somewhere, I think we have a VCR, but I may have tossed it out in one of my rash, neatness attacks.

Every house should have a monitor person to keep track of what should be kept and what should not. And why.

After church today, while I feel inspired and ready to do good things, I may stand near that sewing machine package again and listen. If I detect the sound of music ...