My sister is a lucky, lucky girl. My parents always made me share my stuff with her. I guess it's the burden of being the oldest child.
Unlike some people, she never cared all that much about shoes or clothes, and never managed to accumulate the sort-of collection that I'm known to have. But we were pretty much always the same size, so she never really got hand-me-downs. Instead, when we were in high school, she would just meander into my closet to pick out an outfit or a particular item to wear the next day. And more often than she would admit, she wouldn't give me that article of clothing back. (She also did it with a Def Leppard tape, but that's a story I've mentioned before.) And, truth be told, I usually forgot or just didn't care that much -- until I wanted to wear that particular item again.
Nowadays, she often complains about how she has no work clothing, so when I go home to Florida, I bring her some things that, for whatever reason, I am no longer interested in wearing. This trip, however, she complained to me that she had no appropriate shoes to wear to work, now that she's been promoted and is expected to dress like a manager. So I told her I'd find her something.
So, I spent most of tonight finishing cleaning out my closet -- which I had started several weeks ago. Admittedly, some of the urgency was to find something appropriate to wear to Gold Cup on Saturday. Now I have two large piles: (1) things to give to charity and (2) things to give to my sister. Her pile includes three pairs of dress shoes.
I don't really know why I still do this. I mean, she's 29 years old -- and gainfully employed -- so it's not like she can't go to the store and buy herself whatever she needs. But the pattern continues, ad infinitum.