Confront Your Closet

My closet was out of control.  Ties were laying askew atop a pair of jeans while some shoes were visible underneath the coax cable, socks and discarded jeans in which I could still not yet fit.  Between you and I, I have not moved seriously to clean it since we moved into the house in February.  It’s a shame as it started so well.

At one point my closet had order.  Beautiful with short sleeve shirts seperated from full sleeves and collarless shirts having a place all of their own.  Shoes neat and distinguishable from the scarves and belts.  Aunt Linda slaved for hours putting my closet together from the collection of boxes hurled in the master bedroom.  Twenty years in the Navy endowed her with an organizational prowess and ability to delegate that ensures that with each visit to your home she leaves it better.

She hasn’t seen the closet.  Mortification would be instantaneous.  So I did laundry all day yesterday and now I am finally done.  In between loads of laundry I worked on the order of the closet.  I realize why I hadn’t touched it.  Bad clothing choices starred at me while an army of profesional clothes I haven’t been able to hoist myself into were casting accusational glares.

I am Nikita and I have a lot of clothes.  Three more pounds and everything will fit.  Really, there are more than two pair of jeans and a collection of hoodies and t-shirts.  Lord grant me the patience to clean this closet and accept that I really, really seriously do not need any more shoes.