Cleaning My Closets

I recently bought a house, the one I’m sharing with Nova at the moment. It’s old and adorable with lots of add ons, and it has more built-in storage than I’ve ever seen. I mean, the prior owners turned one bedroom into a hallway (you can’t get to the other half of the house without walking through the bedroom) but filled up a 6′ by 15′ section just adjacent to that room with built-in closets. 

Some of the closets are super deep, and since they’re dusty and periodically littered with broken toy bits (just picked up a quite elegant-looking doll foot…no idea where the rest of the doll is, but she wears classy sandals), I’m cleaning them out before putting anything in them. So, a moment ago, crouched in my four-foot-tall, three-foot deep hall closet, I thought, Huh. I’m in the closet again. 

And seriously, contorting myself to clean the closet I’ve stuffed myself inside? That sounds just like me. 

But at least I’m enjoying it!

So wish me luck. I’m back in closets for the day. But they’re varied, stuck at odd angles, and look markedly better once I’m done working on them, so I’m going to cheer for progress, too. Yay for cleaning up closets — so that I can get out of them, once and for all! (Although I don’t think I’ll ever get out of the habit of seeing randomly entertaining metaphors in my day-to-day life. Do any of you do that? Any fun ones you’d like to share?)

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