My Closet

It is the end of the academic semester and I have survived a full year as a Professor. I have also very recently had a birthday, turning 43 years of age.

In the final weeks of school with the stresses of teaching, getting students ready for their presentations, grading papers, seeing student teachers and meeting with their cooperative teachers some things have been placed waaaaayyyyy to the side.

One of those things? My closet.

By Friday it was so bad that I took what I needed and fled, slamming the door behind me in an effort to unsee the horror that had manifested.

I fell to sleep last night at 8:30 p.m., sleeping through until 11:00 a.m.. As Terrance asked me what my plans for today included I said:

"Clean the rabbit litter. Straighten my bathroom. Put away the massive stack of clean clothes and all the things on the floor. Maybe grade some things. But not the closet. The closet is too much for me to bear, at the moment."

As I worked through my Saturday list, the closet began to make its presence known. It was going to be impossible to put away the clothes and clean up the shoes on the floor unless I entered the closet. I had 12 pairs of shoes that needed to be put... inside the closet. There were skirts and shirts and dresses that all belonged...in the closet.

Damn it. I was going to have to address the closet.

See that pile on the floor? Um, Yeah. That is a pile of shoes.
A giant pile of shoes.
Also, some hats that have fallen, a multitude of discarded scarves and some bags that held summer clothes that I raided when we had a two warm days last week.

See the shoes? I should feel shame, but I can't. Aren't they lovely? Even all jumbled up in that hot mess?

Left side of closet is dresses. Right is skirts and blouses.

As is clear, the system has gone to hell. Shirts are mixing in with dresses, sweaters are flung all about and next years Christmas cards have been haphazardly shoved in a sweater space.

My careful attention to shoe boxes is no longer in evidence.
Things have reached crisis stage.

About an hour later, we have some movement. Most of the shoes have been returned ( lovingly) to their appropriate boxes.
I am crooning soft songs, promising to never treat them that way again.

"Shhh, shoes. Mama will never treat you like that again...until next end of semester."











Coco comes in to investigate. She approves of my progress.
I move to quickly pick up the purses she will begin to chew.

After nearly four solid hours, Order is restored.

Hats are back on the wall where they belong. Shoes have been returned ( except for the brown crocodile ones that are in the car) and all garments have been re-organized with their peers.








I step back and gaze over my kingdom. I turn to Emily and say: "Your mother has a hell of a lot of clothes. And Hats. And Purses."

Emily looks up from her Kindle, nods and returns to her reading.