A few weeks ago, my family and I came back from one of our infamous 20-minute vacations*. Upon opening my closet to put my coat away, I found the bracket holding the bar had pulled out of the wall, leaving the plastic bar bowed in the middle. Now why there was only one bracket holding up a flimsy plastic piece of pipe, I’ll never know. After I moved to Chicago, my younger sister moved into my childhood bedroom and her then-boyfriend rigged a new closet for her. I can’t say it was his fault for this unfortunate occurrence though, because when my dad and cousin went to fix it, they couldn’t find a stud to attach new brackets to.
So I was very peeved to find my closet wasn’t in perfect working order because I’m. Absolutely. Anal. About. My. Closet. Like ridiculously so. Everything goes on the same hanger in the same place. It’s organized by sleeve length and color. If you were to come in and move something, I will notice and it will drive me crazy until I’m able to move it back. In college, my friends would move things around whilst I was out at the fraternity house and I’d come back to the dorm room late. But I’d still take the time to fix their fun. Yeah, that anal.
For almost two weeks, I had a small amount of clothing hanging in my closet and the rest were scattered around the house in piles. Upon initial discovering, my mom came in and asked, “Do you think this means you have too many clothes?” I promptly ROFLMAOd all over the place, stood up, looked her dead in the eye to make sure this was a serious question, and said, “No!”
There was no way I have too many clothes. I’m not sure if it’s possible. Well I’m sure it is possible, but I’m nowhere near that place. Now admittedly if I was a more strict follower of only keeping what fits at this moment in time, I’d have quite a few less items in my closet because of said Mom’s awesome home cooking over the last seven months.
When the closet was finally fixed with two new brackets and a new metal rod to prevent bending, I placed everything back in in its proper place. Then the I hate everything I own trap hit. That almost irresistible urge to give away everything and start over fresh. Of course with my new financial experiment in full force as I write this, that urge must be suppressed. I suppressed that initial urge by stocking up on new basic tees and tanks from Maurices and Old Navy since the old ones were looking kind of ragged. It seems to have worked so far. But who knows when it will creep up again?!
What triggers your I hate everything moments?
*The infamous family 20-minute vacations usually take place within a hundred mile radius of home and are only an overnight thing, maybe two nights away.