<strong>By LEE SCOTT</strong>

A while back, my husband and I decided it was time to downsize.

Our kids are grown and have families of their own. As we looked around the house, we realized there were a lot of things we could give the kids, donate, or just throw away.

“Naturally,” I said to my spouse, “there are many items you can get rid of now. Your closet is full, there are extra tools in the garage and there is a load of electronics that have not been touched for a long time.”

His response was quite normal.

“What about those long gowns in your closet that you have not worn in 10 years? How about those 4-inch heels you are afraid to put on?”

He was right. Other people who have moved might recognize this conversation. It is so easy to get rid of the other person’s stuff.

Then we discovered boxes of our parent’s things. Most likely items they “dumped” on us when they were downsizing.

Why did we feel so compelled to keep some of these boxes of fading pictures? We also had some of our parent’s furniture that would not fit into our downsized house.

That is when the negotiations began. I agreed it was time to donate my mother’s old rocking chair that had been sitting in a guest room for 10 years. He agreed to get rid of his mom’s old side table that had seen much better days.

But it did not take long before we upped the ante.

“I just threw out my high school graduation gown,” I bragged.

He came back with, “I pitched all those old yachting magazines that were in the attic!”

Ah, let the games begin! Who could out do the other one?

When my son came over and picked up the breakfast room hutch, table and four chairs, I knew I was ahead of him.

But the next thing I knew, they were loading a flat screen TV, a coffee table and a few other odds and ends. Hubby was smiling.

A few days later, a landscaper we know showed up at the door.

“I’m here to pick up the old tractor.”

This made a lot of sense since the new house’s lawn is 10 percent the size of the old house’s lawn.

As he rode the tractor down the driveway, I noticed the cart attached. “WHAT!?!”

My competitiveness kicked in as I recalled the seven leaded glass cabinet doors in the attic. I called a local consignment shop and she took them.

Soon we realized our competitiveness was getting out of hand. Our dog Brandy was starting to hide from us.

“No, we aren’t getting rid of you,” I assured her as I tossed out her chewed up toys.

Even the dogs are not spared in the Scotts’ downsizing.

Lee Scott, award winning humor writer takes her “Walter Mitty” like persona and spins tales around everyday life. She enjoys boating, reading, and meeting people. Scott lives in Beaufort with her husband, JD, along with their dog Brandy. You can reach her at Lasshood@aol.com.