or, How I was almost featured on Hoarders…..
I moved into my current apartment back in June. It’s fine, nothing too special (except for the connected bathroom which makes me the happiest person in the whole world – I constantly get undressed to shower before I realize there are no towels in the bathroom, so it’s nice to have that extra privacy).
The house I lived in before had a tiny closet. TINY, tiny. It was sad, but I eventually adapted…in time to move again.
The closet in my current apartment is by no means huge, but is much, much larger than what I had previously. When I moved in and begin the torturous process of unpacking, I discovered that the previous tenant left behind clothes hangers.
I KNOW, you are probably thinking “Score! I never have enough clothes hangers!!” Wrong. Wrong, wrong. There were so many hangers hanging on the rods that there was no room for mine. Since I was drunk on champagne (how do you unpack?), I decided that I needed to keep all the hangers, you know, just in case my closet doubles in size. YOU NEVER KNOW! I also had grandiose thoughts of buying a freestanding clothing rack (I don’t have space for that nonsense). Going against logic, I decided to pack up all of my hangers and about half of the hangers in the closet into a large trash bag.
I then had a massive, awkward bag of hangers….and no place to put it. Closet floor it was!
The bag was fine for a few weeks and somehow the bag sprung a leak. Before I knew it, the hangers had breached their packaging and created a massive hanger-tangle on my closet floor.
I really did try to stop the hanger-tangle before it got out of hand, but I would pick up one hanger and the whole hanger-tangle would come at me. So, I did the next best thing: ignored it and more drank champagne.
The hanger-tangle prevented me from actually going into my closet because if I stepped on the hanger-tangle I would be acknowledging its existence….also I might not make it back out (Cause of death: Hanger-Tangle-Strangulation. Also, cat ate her face off.) I would have to precariously lean in and out to hang clothes up or find something to wear (whatever, I’m used to being awkward). If I dropped something and wasn’t able to catch it mid-fall, it was gone. A silk shirt slipped through my fingers? Gone, the hanger-tangle had it now. Shoes? No, I don’t have any shoes in here, the hanger-tangle does though.
The hanger-tangle had completely taken over my closet and I didn’t know what to do. I stopped hanging things in my closet. My shoes lived scattered all over the place (okay, that has nothing to do with the hanger-tangle). The elephant in the room had gotten so big that there was only one logical thing that I could do. I closed my closet door never to be opened again.
Sunday, February 19, 2012 03:35am
I decided to reopen
the hive my closet and see what had gone wrong. My worst fear was that the hanger-tangle would have multiplied and maybe even become self-aware??!? I went in (don’t freak out, I brought Cat with me as backup. Besides, if I was going to die in there, I didn’t want her to starve.) and was pleasantly surprised to find that the hanger-tangle had not gotten any larger, but it was still incredibly daunting.
I untangled my clothes. I untangled my shoes. I untangled my bags. I untangled those hangers.
And then, I did what I should have done on my first day there, what I should have done when the trash bag broke, what I should have done when I sealed off my closet.
I THREW THOSE WORTHLESS PLASTIC FUCKS AWAY!
I threw away 2 whole bags of plastic hangers.
I no longer have a hanger-tangle in my closet. More importantly, I no longer have to worry about maybe having to explain what the fuck a hanger-tangle is doing in my closet.
Here are some life-flaws you may have picked up on:
– I drink too much champagne (I don’t really…I drink too much of ALL alcohol, it’s being given up for lent)
– I don’t like to deal with hanger-tangles (problems) in life
– I’m the opposite of organized (well, WAS, my closet is awesome right now)
– I do my spring cleaning between 11pm and 5am on Saturday nights.
– Yes, my cat and I are single….how’d you know?