22 October 2013


Pretty much no one who knows me is going to believe what I'm about to tell you, but it's true. It's all true.

My closet is organized by color. Type of clothing, and then color. In rainbow order.

Yeah, I'm... not... quite... sure how it happened either, except that when I moved back to Gone West and was putting all my clothes in the closet, I found myself putting all the shirts together by color and all the dresses together by color, and for some reason I don't quite know, I've kept doing it. 

The good news is that I can tell you definitively exactly how many black shirts is enough that you will be able to look at the clearance shirts at T@rget and decide against another black one: the answer is seven. 

I can also tell you that eight grey shirts is not enough to keep you from thinking about buying more new grey shirts. 

The interesting thing is how completely my wardrobe is dominated by black, grey, blue, and green. There are a few scattered red and pink items, and still fewer purple. I think I have one orange shirt and one yellow dress. My rainbow has a big chunk missing in the middle. I feel like you could guess my skin tone just by the items in my closet. (Very, very few oranges and yellows look good on pale white people. It just can hardly be done.)

It's all very frightening, actually. I've never really thought of myself as the sort of person who would - gasp - organize a closet. Closets are for shoving things into, never to be found again. 

Never fear, though. I'm sure there will come a day when I finally get around to removing all of the items that currently live in the laundry basket and putting them away and I'll be too hurried to put them back with their colors and the natural order of things will be restored. (Ha! Obviously the laundry basket is for storing clean and/or clean-ish clothes that you can re-wear. Everyone knows that. The dirty clothes go in a heap on the floor and then you carry them down to the basement in your arms while the heap drips socks for you to go back and collect and take down on your second trip to the basement.)

Now that you know my opinion of clean-ish clothes, it will not surprise you at all to hear that today some people were discussing the compost bucket and how they can't stand to have it on the counter that is the most disgusting thing ever because the things in it are rotting, ROTTING I tell you, and while I'm not exactly a fan of the very old, stanky container my parents have on their counter, the compost bucket itself, here in my house in Gone West, does not gross me out one bit, as long as it is rinsed out every time you empty it and it hasn't sat for too long with any particular concoction inside it. I could probably eat right while sitting next to it.

(I now have that paint with all the colors of the wind song stuck in my head. And you do, too. You're welcome.)

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