Closets can make a lot of a.m. ruckus
Squeak, squeak is the sound the bedroom clothes closet doors make when I’m rolling them open.
A squeak, squeak that’s there no matter how fast or how slow I try to open the doors, despite my efforts to will them to silence at either speed.
Then comes the repeated sound — the word to best describe it escapes me — of hangers in this jammed clothes closet being pushed back and forth, back and forth, apart and together, this way and that way.
There are battles and struggles, too.
Sometimes the hangers get tangled and don’t want to separate, so I switch into warrior mode and do hanger battle, feeling the anger the Incredible Hulk must experience before his transformation from good guy to green guy.
And sometimes clothes fall off the hangers, and that’s cause for another struggle.
All this is not exactly quiet and calming stuff.
Add to that noise mix yours truly sighing — loud sighs accompanied by an occasional “grrrr” I make under my breath to affirm that I’m irritated with myself — again.
“What time is it?” I hear Better Half’s voice above the racket of my morning routine.
I tell him, whispering the answer for reasons unknown, given any attempt to keep quiet at this point would — duhhhh — be unnecessary.
Better Half is wide awake now obviously, his head propped in his hands as he observes yet another morning display of my what-too-wear indecisiveness.
Of course, I apologize profusely and make a weak attempt to defend myself.
“Sorry — I’m just trying to find something I don’t have to iron,” I rationalize, thinking I’m cutting him some slack big time if he doesn’t have to hear me carry on a morning conversation with the iron, which I have done.
Usually these exchanges are noisy, too, and not very edifying.
Better Half, of course, has a solution.
“If you didn’t have so many clothes you wouldn’t have this problem.”
Grrrr, I am thinking to myself, trying hard not to make any more noise at this point.
I hate it when people make sense, especially first thing in the morning.
Sometimes I don’t think I have that much stuff to wear, and, honestly, I’m always thinning out my closet, or at least considering the possibilities.
It’s just that I get real practical and think maybe something will be part of a future Halloween outfit I won’t be able to find anywhere else when I need it, or maybe I’ll be in the mood somewhere down the road to wear something I haven’t donned in a decade.
And I hate to pass up bargains, so I do try to be a conscientious consumer and sneak in purchases when Better Half isn’t looking so later on he can see me in something and wonder aloud, “When did you get that?”
I watch those “Tiny House Hunters “ shows with awe and wonder where people thin their wardrobe way down to nothing to live in a wee-itty- bitty bit of space.
But I’m going to have to go to plan B.
Time to spray WD-40 on those closet doors so Better Half can get some sleep.
(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.)