Mother Connie Sez: Closets? Really?

Let's begin by saying that the house where we live is generously blessed with closets.  The sliding doors have exquisite wood grain and the house was built in the 1960's, so closets were not overlooked.  Each bedroom has ample closet space and there is a coat closet near our front door.

That said, if you stopped by, you'd never know there's a closet in the place!
 
We seem to live like teenagers.  When we come in from the paper route, we are tired and want our coffee, so we peel off our layers and hang them on the corners of the chair at the desk in the living room.  We take off our boots; Norm lines his up along the china cupboard.  I tuck mine under a chair near the computer desk.  Hats, scarves and gloves go in a heap, wherever they land.

As our day progresses, Norm's jammies hang on one of the posts of the bed.  His shoes are lined up beside the bureau.   My jeans might wind up on a doorknob.   

Were my mother still with us, she would have a COW.   From what I know about Norm's mother, I think SHE also would disapprove of these sloppy habits.




We do know better.  We just don't take the time to hang things up properly.  We fancy they are "handier" and more convenient as we pile them around.


My own mother was fastidious.  She was a stay at home mom of one and she took great pride in her homemaking skills.  She had a place for everything and everything was in its place.  I'm not sure how I've strayed so far from my upbringing.  But to be fair, my mother did not have a paper route during the night and she did not blog by day.  grin


There was a time-I must have been about 4 years old-when my mother and father disagreed about who should pick up whose dirty clothes and put them into the hamper.  I remember coming out of my bedroom one morning to find my mother's hosiery draped over a lamp and across the back of the sofa.  Her shoes were on a table.  Her dress hung from the light fixture in the ceiling and her unmentionables were stuck under the cushions of the chairs, just so they were easily seen.  

I asked what had happened, for I was sure we had been invaded by fly-by-night closet re-organizers.  My mother and father exchanged looks and I knew I should never have brought it up.  But after that demonstration my dad was careful to pick up his socks and place them in the laundry hamper on a regular basis.  I never noted that he got a hernia from doing so.  That subject never came up again, either.


When 2011 rolled in, I vowed to simplify my life.  Perhaps I've carried that a wee bit too far.  It could be time to rethink my bad habits. . .But what are the chances of Norm going along with me?  I have a cousin who is a professional organizer.  I guess it's time to pick up the phone...

Connie Baum
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