Monsters in the Closet

Children are right. There really are monsters in the closets. Their closet monsters come out at night and threaten to annihilate them. Mine come out in the daytime, reminding me of the detritus of the past ten years crammed in there with them. It's hard to maintain my delusions of tidiness with the voices of unfinished projects, ancient clothes, and weird gadgets ("Stableicers--sure traction snow tires for your feet!") clamoring for my attention. Attention they are not likely to get when I am working 40 hours a week.

But now I'm home during the day. Like crying babies, closet monster voices are really, really hard to ignore. Yesterday's battle with the bedroom closet took all day, lots of sweaty trips up and down stairs, and a journey to unload my full car at Value Village. And yet, it wasn't a complete victory--some of the smaller, weirder items clung to me like leeches, reminding me why I bought them, and promising to be more useful in the future. I'm not a total wimp; I got rid of them anyway. Well, most of them. (OK, half of them.)

If I don't become gainfully employed soon, I'll have to gird up my loins (can women do that?) and wade into the lair of the most fearsome closet monster of all--the dread BASEMENT BEDROOM CLOSET. That's where we put the "We'll-never-use-it-again-but-don't-want-to-admit-it" stuff (like ski clothes that belong in a museum, and linens in all those great 1988 colors.) The closet is huge, and like a faithful dog, it's been accepting our foibles for 13 years. It's hard to admit the time has come, but it has. The basement bedroom closet is finally, undeniably, completely full. The only way out of attacking it is to be gone 40 hours a week.

This shuddering reality sent me into a frenzy of phone calls and resumes to possible employers. Will one of them hire me before the Basement Bedroom Closet Monster drags me into the closet's musty interior, possibly never to be seen again? And do prospective employers respond favorably to terrified begging? Stay tuned, folks.