I can always tell when the spring and autumn have arrived at my house and it has nothing to do with budding flowers or falling leaves. It concerns, instead, the cycle of life that revolves around summer and winter clothing. Every year I harbor secret fears about what might be found in the back of my closets. As a writer of horror fiction, the possibilities are endless. Everything is so cluttered that for all I know everything and everyone missing for the last six months might have found a temporary refuge there. The real tragedy is that if they have, I haven’t even noticed!
I try to face my adversaries with courage and dignity, thinking not what I can do for my closets but rather what they can do for me. All I have to do is open the closet door and I am “whelmed” as Mel Brooks used to say, at the task that lies before me. Piles and piles block my view; my heaps have heaps. Suddenly everything I own and cannot find is looking back at me with accusing, disorganized eyes. For me, I tackle the floor and my shoes first. That gives me a place, however tenuous, to stand. Then I work my way up to what’s dangling, sort of hanging and should be hanging.
One trick that will ensure that everything gets done is to take everything out of the closet and throw it on your bed. Then step back and analyze what you need. Reduce your closet to two activity zones; need and don’t need (but would if I could find it). By throwing everything in a place you must utilize every day you will be forced to complete the job at hand before bedtime. (If you get really disgusted, there’s always the floor or a nearby motel.)
There’s no point in denying the psychological aspects of closet clutter. Avoid asking questions such as: Why do I like chaos? What does all this disorganization do for me? Does chaos offer me something my husband can’t? And last but not least, Dr. Phil’s famous question: “How’s that working for you?” Think instead of what you could become if you were just a little bit more organized. Perhaps a king among kings or a queen among queens (if you could find your crown). Who knows what awaits us all in the organized after-life? (The Closet Bogeyman, that’s who!)
It’s 7 AM. Do YOU know where your closets are?