Today’s post comes to you from “642 Things to Write About”, which asks the question: “What’s stored in your closet?”
Well, right off the bat there are a lot of closets in my house. There’s the one in the hall upstairs, which is where we store our towels, surplus bath and hygiene products, and basically anything you would normally find in a bathroom. There’s the closet in the basement, which is full of a bunch of old computer parts, and is also where my husband hides presents for me. Then there’s the closet on the main floor that serves as a kind of pantry for bottled drinks and discounted Halloween candy, and also has a bunch of board games shoved up on the top shelf. And I haven’t even mentioned the mudroom closet, the half-bath closet, the spare room closet, or my daughter’s bedroom closet.
But this prompt, I assume, wants me to talk about my closet – the one that’s next to my bedside.
The obvious answer, of course, is clothing, but those fall into several categories. There are a handful of sweaters and a stack of jeans and yoga pants that I wear regularly. Then there are a few pairs of capris, shorts, and cute dresses that I only wear when I’m feeling good about myself (*cough*rarely*cough*). On the top shelf are a bunch of jeans, turtlenecks, and winter gear that I only use when I’m on a job that requires me to spend a lot of time outside in the colder months. Finally, there’s a pretty red storage box that contains the dress and shoes that I wore on my wedding day.
But clothes aren’t the only thing in my closet. On the lower shelf there is a container filled with sewing and craft supplies – fabric bits, ribbons, thread and needles, and a mini-hot-glue gun, amongst other things. On the floor beneath my clothes is a tote full of old stuff I’ve kept and things with sentimental value, like the scrapbook my best friend made me back in high school. And on top of the tote is our extra set of bedsheets, which are some of the comfiest damn sheets you’ll ever sleep on.
And of course there are a few things I’m not mentioning, because a girl has to have her privacy. ^_~
Oh, and dust. Because every closet needs a little dust.
This was a silly prompt, but I’ll ask anyway: so what’s stored in your closet? Please share!
Also, a reminder that I am running a contest throughout the month of March. For each comment you post on my blog throughout the month, you will receive one entry toward a draw for a hard-copy of my zombie apocalypse novel, “Nowhere to Hide”! Please note that in order to accept the prize, I will need you to give me a mailing address where I can have the book sent. If the winner drawn did not intend to enter the contest and/or does not want the book, I will draw another name. Please also note that obvious spam/duplicate comments/etc. will not be counted toward an entry…play fair! And good luck! ❤
4 thoughts on “Skeletons (or Not) in the Closet”
My bedroom closet isn’t very interesting. It’s mostly full of clothes. My hall closet is where you’ll find the story. At least five big plastic totes and several smaller cardboard boxes line the walls, one with a side cut out so that it can be used as a litter box for a girl cat who likes to pee as high as she can. The two largest boxes contain my collection of stuffed animals. I still slept with a pile of stuffed animals up until I was 27. My ex and I used to have little conversations with the stuffed animals. When we broke up and I moved out, I put them all away. Of course, there weren’t two giant totes worth on the bed, I’ve just amassed that many over the years. Each one means something to me, I’m just trying to get away from the insanity of having a bedroom filled with stuffed animals in my thirties.
The other boxes are a mix of all the hobbies I thought I’d pick up, but couldn’t quite commit. All the decorations I only put out once a year. All the little trinkets that my mom gives me that no longer fit on my shelves. Working in apartment rentals, I think if abundant closet space is a selling point, it means “I carry the weight of sentimentality, and the guilt of never getting around to things I thought would make me happy.” At least that is the meaning I’ve drawn from all the people closest to me. I never realized my mother was a hoarder until she had me clean out my old bedroom when I moved back in after my breakup. It’s strange the things people hang onto.
I definitely feel you. I struggle with a bit of a hoarder mentality myself. I’m able to convince myself to throw out stuff that is clear and simple trash, but anything that might have even the tiniest hit of sentimentality is a huge issue for me. I do little bits at a time, but it’s difficult. I even had a hard time getting rid of unused photo albums because they were given to me as presents at one point. Now that I have a kid it’s even harder because I’ve got boxes of old clothes and toys that are close to impossible for me to get rid of. @.@
It was so weird, for years I always felt so guilty for leaving my mess behind when I moved out, and hoped my mom would never go through my potentially embarrassing teen possessions. But when I went to clean the room out, most of the stuff was her stuff. There were even these corn bags she’d made as gifts (you pop them in the microwave to get them warm and then put them on your feet or wherever you need a heating pad), and a mouse had chewed through the fabric leaving basically corn dust all over the place. All my clothes from when I was little. All the school projects that I thought were gone. She’d stuffed everything in my old room. It was mindblowing.
That sounds pretty similar to what my parents’ attic is like. There’s just EVERYTHING up there, from my first baby clothes, to papers I wrote in high school. They keep wanting me to go up there so I can take some stuff (like my books) away, but it makes me shudder to think of having to rummage through all the stuff that’s up there. Although, it would give me a chance to find and burn some of that “potentially embarrassing” stuff you mentioned. lol