"No Wire Hangers…Everrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!"

I didn’t want to do a thing this weekend. Some weekends should just be about lounging around and popping in sugar free bonbons. But it wasn’t meant to be. When I glanced at the mirror in my bedroom for once my visage was of no interest to me; the appalling heaps of clothes piled up on the footboard, the headboard and the rocking chair in the corner grabbed my attention and left me speechless.

That was the end of my “do nothing” weekend. It was swiftly replaced by frenzied washing, drying, sorting and ironing activity. I was a woman with a mission and a woman with eight arms. That wasn’t the worst of it though. The worst was yet to come. When I walked into my walk-in closet I tripped over unpacked luggage from our impromptu weekend trips, I stepped into old shopping bags and various unidentified sharp, blunt and tangled objects.

I tread gingerly and gradually made my way to the rod where I was about to hang some ironed clothes. But I wasn’t able to create enough space there. I tried forcing the issue but only managed to dislodge every shirt that was resting unbuttoned on the hanger and every boat neck, wide V neck or unzipped dress that was hanging on for dear life on one or more of the ubiquitous “We ‘Heart’ our Customers” wire hangers from dry cleaners, who couldn’t possible “heart” their customers as much as they said they did.

So now I had even more clothes on the floor! I was still trying to transfer ironed shirts from my aching arms to the closet’s rod but the wire hangers refused to give and when they gave they tumbled down in a tangled mess of wire, all interconnected in a spidery, spindly and extremely annoying web of wire. That’s when I lost it completely. Not much unlike:

Over the next four hours every single wire hanger came out of my closet and landed in a three feet high pile on the bedroom floor. Yes there were some minor nicks and scrapes but they couldn’t diminish the general, wire-free aura of immense satisfaction I now wore! Even the looming problem of the disposal of twisted, tangled, barbed metal couldn’t diminish the euphoria.

Perhaps the next weekend can be a “do-nothing” weekend. I’ll stay away from the horrors of mirrors, who knows what will come into sharp focus next time.

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