A Place For Everything....
Hello kittens,
Wondering where I been, or you don't really give a fuck? I had some sort of manic attack. Not panic, it was manic this time. When Al Coholic moved in with us last year I had to basically take all the crap that I had accumulated over the years that I had been keeping in both my bedroom and the guest room, and try and jam it all into my one room. I took the opportunity at the time to purge a bit and get rid of some things but basically, I crammed it all in. Then Al went into his Caholic meltdown and I purged him, too. And boing! My stuff pretty quickly broke the seams of my bedroom and spilled rapidly back into both rooms. It was clothes, mostly but also pictures, saved magazines, technology resources and guides. You know, stuff. (fun fact about me: I love clothes and shopping for clothes and the shoe thing I have that
as well. I love shoes all kinds of shoes and sneakers and boots. I try to control myself but I have, in fact, on more than one occasion purchased an article of clothing and then put it in the closet and forgotten all about it until three months later when I delightedly discover that it's there, tags intact.) So as you can see two roomfuls of clothes is not that outrageous for someone like me. And you have to figure in that they like me to dress nice for the bar but that clothing is so not me and then I need stuff to knock around in when I'm being the butch lesbian shelf builder, and a whole 'nother wardrobe for when I'm the smartly dressed fag about town. So after contracting my stuff and then expanding my stuff the end result is I didn't really know where half my stuff was. And even if I knew where my stuff was I didn't always have access to it because it was locked away in a cabinet I couldn't reach or on a shelf I needed to break out a stepladder to get at, and let's face it, if you'd like to wear your tan loafers but your black Sketchers are sitting right there in front of you, are you going to break out the stepladder to get the loafers? I'll tell you, no, you won't. I actually have been dressing kind of sloppily at work because I couldn't get at all my clothes and shoes.
But at one point last week the closet rod in the guest bedroom collapsed for the umpteenth time and I'm like, "Fuck! C'mon Helen! You're a homosexual can't you organize a closet?" And I thought, I sure as fuck can! So all weekend long last week I considered the space. Just sort of pondered the set up of the room and how I was utilizing space and how I could do it better. The computer and bed weren't being moved as they were exactly where I liked them but I certainly had some dead space I wasn't using well and that wardrobe I garbage picked at least ten years ago was now no more than a T-shirt and porn cabinet. (fun fact #2. I like porn. A lot.) So plan in mind I headed for that houswares/bathroom/bedding/kitchen/closet space for black women....... yes, I'm talking Bed, Bath and Beyonce. They had a veritable plethora of things for my storage needs. I bought a clothes rack, stackable shoe racks, five-tiered hangars for pants, belt hangars, tie hangars, storage boxes and sticky clear plastic hooks. I woke up on the first day of my weekend (Tuesday) ready to get to work. By Tuesday at midnight it looked like a crazy person had moved in. I had the clothes rack up and the shoes came out of storage but you couldn't see my bed for all the junk on it and the living room contained the (now empty) wardrobe and stacks or piles of socks and gym shorts and accessories and yes, I can say it, a jockstrap and a white thong. I once (briefly) wore a thong. I finally quit about 2:30 am as I had finally managed to at least clear enough space on the bed for me to sleep in it. I took it as a sign.
The next day, more of the same and by around midnight last night, I had successfully compacted two rooms of life into one bedroom. And best of all now everything I need is within easy reach. I threw away two big garbage bags of bad porn I didn't want and outdated (upon arrival) International Male gym apparel. (did I really wear Lycra?) As an aside I brought the trash down around 12:30am or so. I went half a block to the 24 hr. deli to get some milk and club soda. 5 minutes later I return to my building and even though there's almost no one on the street there is, of course, a homeless guy looking at my discarded porn. May the spirits bless him, I hope he sold it for money. Or took it somewhere and jerked off. Now for that guest room. Oy!
