Growing up, my parent’s linen closet was a disaster.
Come to think of it, most closets in my house growing up were a disaster save for a few areas that the cleaner family members held sole control. Competing against each other were two sets of people: the mad hatter mess makers (Mom and my brother Kevin) and the OCD police (yours truly and her father). For some reason, my father abdicated most of the house to my mother.
Did he have a choice, really?
The dining room table, the tupperware cabinet and most of the closets in the house (save for my room, my father’s office and his side of the closet) were left to the herds and when things got bad enough, justice prevailed. Once every three or four months, my mother would ask me to organize our linen closet. Filled with towels and sheets and pillows and blankets, this thing was easily 10 feet high and required nimble climbing along the shelves in addition to folding, refolding, stacking and collating of every article in it. I never understood why people just couldn’t fold the towels in half and then in thirds, lines in, edges facing back with no more than three in a stack and 1″ spacing between groupings.
Is it really that hard?
Years have passed and though my mother tells me that no one can organize the shelves like you can, I have long given up the idea that I can change them: the closets or the mad hatters. These days I close my eyes, open the closet, grab a towel and shut the door, never to open it for the rest of my stay.
Thank God I live in Seattle.
I wish I had a before picture of this shelving area in my bed nook but imagine it with long chocolate curtains hanging from the ceiling to just above the dresser. Behind them were my towels, sheets and any random storage boxes that I couldn’t find a place for elsewhere. Because space is limited and there are only so many areas of your house you can focus on at once during your first year in a new place, I often shoved things behind the curtains and only prayed they wouldn’t fall behind the dresser. Even though the curtains hid the mess, I knew what was there. And that can only hold off the OCD for so long.
Behold, my creation. Now excuse me while I go refold that gray hand towel. The lines are on the outside.