One thing The Man and I have in common is that we both like to be well-dressed. This means we both buy a lot of clothes, and since we don’t yet on a house and dwell in a moderate apartment instead, this means we quickly run out of space to fit it all. This is when the closet war begins! Two years ago when we first viewed this apartment, I fell in love with it because it had an enormous walk-in (unheard of in these parts of Jersey) in the master bedroom.
I honestly wasn’t plotting to take it over entirely back when we signed the lease, but it only took about a month for me to boot what was left of Gibran’s stuff out. I banished his things to a smaller closet in the second bedroom (AKA our office) and although he wasn’t totally pleased with having to stuff all his belongings into such a small space, he chose to get crafty and make it work instead of complain. (Thanks again, babe!)
I thought I had won the war until I realized something peculiar was going on: All of the “miscellaneous” homeless items in our place somehow found their way onto my closet floor or shelves. Aha! I had figured him out. The Man was still harboring feelings of jealousy over my swift and torturous closet takeover and as payback finds all sorts of bizarre things to stick in there “because I have the space”.
Genius, isn’t it? Whenever I see a bottle of glass cleaner, or an old book stashed among my sweaters or jeans I roll my eyes, complain, and then abruptly move it somewhere else. But the truth is, I’m beginning to think that I don’t really have a right to touch these things. Especially during moments like now, as I type this at my desk, and I look over at Gibran’s poor little closet door hanging on for dear life as giant stacks and mounds of four seasons worth of men’s shoes and clothing lurk behind it just pushing and begging to fall free.
Shame on me! If my husband is willing to give me a closet the size of my old college dorm room to put my stuff in, why can’t I give him a pass on leaving something like a scrabble game set or an old umbrella in mine? I have no excuse. I am just shamed. If I did win this war, lately it’s sure not feeling like much of a victory. In fact the minute I get some real free time on a weekend I vow to carve out some space for his overflow; a chore on my list that is long overdue.
Who won your closet war, you or the hubby? How did you decide on who gets what?
- Fresh Start: Small Closet Updates that Make a Big Difference (apartmenttherapy.com)
- 7 Tips for Keeping an Uncluttered Closet (apartmenttherapy.com)
- Why I Am Sleeping On The Couch (For Now!) (manwifeanddog.com)