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Hello people! Long time since I’ve been here, I know.
Disclaimer: This is being written entirely under duress and NOT because I have anything that is exceptionally exciting to say. OK, not really exciting at all.
Yes, let’s just say I am being coerced by my family and a few other people. Boy are they going to feel foolish when they read this and realize that they made me do it. Alright, let the magic words continue…
First up, (I think this is all you’re getting), for your fascination is the fact that I cleaned my closet out the other day.
Here we have the two bags of clothes to donate. They weighed a million pounds.
Here we are AFTER the sorting. What you can’t see is that between the frumpy, ugly clothes is SPACE. WOO-HOO!
Now the really neat thing that I really enjoy about my closet is that the clothes are hung in color waves. OK, I’m not sure if that is the right term, but they are stuck in there by color. Kinda sorta following rainbow theory… OK, not very well. I’m pretty sure my “spectrum” is all outta whack, BUT, if it was in the right order, you’d be awed. NO, REALLY! YOU WOULD!
From the other direction! I think you can see what I mean a little bit better here.
And the pants! That’s work clothes on the end down there.
There is a whole other bag of clothes that was just trash that NOBODY would want. Torn, paint spattered, bleach riddled, work rags. What I’m thinking now is, I really can’t do any hard work at this point because, I have nothing to wear.
Actually, that’s not entirely true. I couldn’t lie to you people. Well, not about the ability of me to wear housework clothes, anyway… I did save a couple of pairs of pants and some old tee shirts for just such an occasion as cleaning out my tub and shower walls. AND I DID IT! LOTS of bleach was used and MUCH inhaling of fumes ensued. Voila! It all sparkles now. That man I am married to even noticed… how sad a commentary is that on the filth that was hanging out in there?
We here at chez Lopez do not condone the growth of single cell organisms in our bathing facilities. Nor do we approve of them flourishing to the extent that they develop their own IQ.
Yes, well… Once this has occurred, “we”, ahem, (You know who that is, right?), sit back, shake our head and watch that shit grow take appropriate action. Before too many months days go by I haul myself in there with a bottle of some sort of bleach/cleaner, a piece of Scotch Brite, a rag, and an old toothbrush. Completely sans the gas mask. (I am VERY foolish brave!) Three wine coolers later hours later, I emerged victorious.
Next, we, (I use that term loosely), re grout, cause that stuff is coming lose from all the mold/bleach going on in there!
Here is the one I just KNOW you’ve been waiting for.
With excitement riding high I am presenting the top of my closet. The white boxes are empty and there for gift giving. The blue boxes are full of who knows what and the gray boxes are archival quality, acid free stuff to preserve things in. I’ve got a few different copies of The Dallas Morning News in there from the day of and the following few days after Kennedy was assassinated. My mom or father got them and kept them. The newspapers in the acid ridden plastic bag next to it are ones that I have some stuff published in from back when The Houston Post was around.
No, I did not have anything to do with them going out of business… NO, I don’t know why they went out of business. SHEESH
I guess the fact that those are in the plastic bag, turning brown and rotting is pretty evident of how I feel about my worth as a writer! Still… they DID publish my opinion… hummmmm.
NO, IT WASN’T ABOUT CLEANING OUT MY CLOSET.