Everyone knows that the time to dismantle, reorganize and paint four closets is when you have a bad tooth.
And then have that tooth pulled out of your head.
As one of my sisters-in-law pointed out, the smell of paint fumes and Percocet must really go together.
And of course it is good to have dental surgery and remodeling projects happening a week or two before Christmas.
Timing is everything.
In my defense, I thought the tooth extraction would be simple. Once again, the delusional part of my personality came to life. For several days after the tooth was gone, I took the pain pills and ate ice cream and told Banjo Man that this whole thing was a piece of cake.
When I wasn’t sleeping, I painted the insides of closets and, in a cheerful zombie-like state, moved piles of stuff from one place to another. I researched cabinet organization things on the internet and ordered the winners on Amazon.
But when it came time to tell Banjo Man where the shelves would go and how wide I wanted them and how many I wanted in the China Pantry and how I wanted the Food Pantry to look and what about the Coat Closet Turned Into a Tablecloth Closet? He wanted measurements and numbers.
Organizational Tip: You can’t do measurements and remember numbers while taking Percocet.
In other words, I would hold the tape measure and cry. Banjo Man would sigh, put his tools aside and suggest I go back to bed. We’ll try this again tomorrow, he would say. Want to watch another episode of Game of Thrones?
And the messes would pile up.
And my mouth began to hurt. And the entire left side of my face began to hurt. And I wasn’t sleeping. Or eating. Or measuring shelves.
BUT….in the last three days The Pain has left the building and I am feeling much better. No more drugs! No more ice packs!
No more ice cream!
So here are two of the four closets. (Number 3, the food pantry, has been reorganized and will get new shelves in the near future, but for now is much improved. Number 4, the giant bathroom closet, has been emptied of a lot of stuff but will need more work, maybe in a month or two.)
When I looked at the coat closet I realized three things:
1. All of the coats hanging there were mine and most of them I no longer wore.
2. The only thing we used in that closet was the box of garbage bags.
3. Everything else in the closet could go somewhere else or be tossed out.
I also realized that my vintage tablecloths were hard to see when they were folded and stacked on shelves. In antique stores they are hung on hangers, so my little Percocet-y brain came up with the idea of hanging the tablecloths. That way I could iron them whenever I felt like it, hang them up and be prepared for the next party.
I’m not a fan of ironing tablecloths an hour before the guests arrive, but I seem to do it a lot.
My Christmas tablecloths will live in this closet all of the time, instead of being stored in a bin in the basement. That way I can see what I have and I will always know where they are.
Let me repeat that: I will always know where they are.
Because that’s the whole point of reorganizing the closets: to know where things are. To be able to find them when I want to use them, even if I only use them once a year.
Banjo Man says he knows where the wine is, and we’re opening a bottle tonight to celebrate our new, organized lifestyle.