Organizing closets and drawers takes up almost as much time as decorating these days. After spending six years in our last house, it’s a bit of a shock to my OCD system to have things in different places, different rooms, different compartments.
On the other hand, I have my own closet. Actually… and please don’t throw anything at your computer screen because it will be expensive to replace it… I have my own dressing room. Now before your head fills with images of chandeliers and gilt trim… it’s not like that. It needs some help. It’s a tired room. But after six years with the tiniest closet built in the 1950’s I AM NOT COMPLAINING.
It has a little built in desk and a window overlooking the roof line. The vent pipe for our hot water heater sits just across the roof line, so on cold days puffs of fog blow by the window. I pretend like I’m in an attic apartment in London. It’s a good place to write.
I’m also convinced it’s a national squirrel highway. They truck back and forth, so busy, screeching at each other. The other day I was painting, with the window open (sans screen), and a squirrel popped in and perched on my desk. I froze, paint brush in hand, with a million thoughts running through my mind.
What if he doesn’t leave?
What if he has the plague?
What if his friends decided to join and have a big party in my dressing room?
What if their little paw prints track paint everywhere?
And of course the all encompassing: What if he bites me?
Long story short, he left without a fuss. He just sort of sat there looking at me like, “Hey, this dressing room has been fine for the last 30 years with it’s glossy beige built ins and stained carpet. Leave it alone lady.”
But you know me. I can’t leave it alone. I also can’t wait to get everything settled and turn on lamps and set up my computer at that little desk. It’s a place I can write. And hide. And watch the squirrel highway.