Of Hangers and Willpower, Part 2

Disclaimer:  The following is what I'm prettt sure is a text book example of a first-world problem.  Proceed without [too much] judgement...

This week I have faced a daunting, emotionally painful, harrowing, and at times, dangerous task.  The dreaded closet clean-out.  Ugh.  It gives me the willies just thinking about it!  The problem with the dreaded closet clean-out lies in a multitude of areas, but I suppose that the largest (and strangely, easiest to admit) of these is that fact that I like my stuff (or at least, did at some point)!  If I like it, why should I get rid of it?! Makes sense, right?  Some people just don't understand the attachment one develops to one's wardrobe.  (Do I sound shallow yet?)
Dear husband has scoffed at the above theory since the day I met him.  His hints that a closet purge was imminent were getting less and less suggestive and more and more proclamatory.  I finally capitulated when, in the search for a missing hiking boot, I unearthed approximately three pairs of shoes that had somehow fallen off of my mental wardrobe inventory.  Also, my compulsive need to fold things was beginning to beat on my brain.
So, it was with great sadness that I parted with the black column dress I've had since the tender age of 15.  I swear it looked at me with betrayal in it's eyes, reminding me of the many times it was so perfect, as I gave it one last caress and cast it into the pile.  So mournfully did I sever ties with that white, paper-thin blouse, you know, the one that I wore that day when everything went my way?
Anyhow, the hardest part is now behind me.  And despite the anguish of the "purge," I feel better now.  Things are more organized, more accessible, and now there is room for  new stuff!  ;)