Clean Closets

I don’t mind cleaning.  In fact, when I’m mad, srubbing floors is a great tension reliever.   I have a theory that when our house gets too messy that my husband picks a fight so I’ll get motivated to scrub.

However, I don’t like cleaning out closets.   I think if something goes into a closet it should stay there.   I am also vaguely distrustful of people who get too close to my closets.   Some very loving people have offered to help me clean my sewing room closet.  I don’t want help.  Some very loving people in my past have actually coerced me into cleaning my closets.   I didn’t like it.   I don’t enjoy having to explain exactly why I have gum wrappers or mismatched socks at the bottom of my closet.   I don’t know how they got there.   I just accept them as facts in my life and adjust my life around the gum wrappers.  This works out pretty well if you are talking about closets.   Its ideal if you are trying to get along with someone else’s quirks.   It does not help one little bit when I have something I should be facing that I’d rather ignore.

One summer I got home from kids camp and discovered that I had an intruder in my bedroom who had thrown out belongings I was storing in my closet.   Now I couldn’t then actually come up with a single item that was gone but there had to be legions missing because the doors shut.

My sister tells a story about cleaning out a closet in Niger, Africa.   She was working in a school there that had a supply closet that only had one thing being stored.   Well.   More accurately it had millions of one thing.  Termites.   Nasty little buggers.  Made the whole closet useless.

I think people sometimes wish that God would deal with them in the summer camp method.   Make me better without requiring any effort on my part.

Today I wore a dress to work that no one had ever seen.  It wasn’t actually new.   It just had been hiding behind gum wrappers.  The trick now is going to be keeping the sweaters neatly folded and watching vigilantly that no stray socks sneak onto the floor.  I wonder what my life would be like if I was as diligent about keeping track of gossip or bitterness or whatever else tends to stack up.  I wonder what it will take to motivate me to scrub.

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