I had not actually intended to freak out and clean the closet this afternoon, but I was idly flipping through house stuff on-line and found a reference to the book Life at Home in the Twenty-First Century which was an anthropological study of how we live (or how Americans in LA live, anyhow, which may not quite resemble the rest of us.) It pretty much took one photo of dirty clothes being stored in the shower and that weird bit in the back of my brain that is convinced that I am five minutes of vigilance away from LIVING IN SQUALOR screamed like a regiment of drunken Highlanders and went for the garbage bags.
Honestly, the house looks pretty good at the moment, as long as you stay out of the closets and the garage. The new flooring in the living room makes it infinitely better. The library is about half awesome and half…not quite so awesome, but the rest of the downstairs is totally awesome.
And now the closet is…at least more functional.
Someday, I will do the coat closet. I will need a chair, a whip, and some contractor bags. But not today.