A big part of the Mission: Declutter is about making room for Pete. This is a bit ridiculous of a statement as we moved in here together and everything we own outside of our clothes are joint purchases, but my items seem to be taking over the house. As an only child (and a woman with a penchant for bags and shoes) I have a tendency to take over any space I inhabit. The worst cases currently are the coat rack and the closet.
I have at least four coats for each season. I think Pete has four coats in total.
I have over half the closet filled with clothes I never get to wear. You would think I was the one going off to work every day by the look of that mess. It’s so full Pete keeps his work shirts hanging down in the shower so they don’t crease. He has four suits, a hanger of ties and two ‘dress’ shirts in the wardrobe. Most of which he wears completely over the course of a week.
Now the ‘evil’ part of me would say with the clothes in such frequent use it’s better that they remain out of the wardrobe and in easy reach. But I only just thought of that at this moment as I write and it is quite wicked, really (relatively). The reality is my unworn collection is squeezing him out. Another opportunity for a metaphor, there. My wishful thinking smothering reality. (I really have been in academia too long when I can’t just get on with things without creating a ‘meaningful’ narrative to accompanying the most mundane of activities. I mean for f**k’s sake, I’m just cleaning the house in preparation for the perpetually-on-its-way-but-never-really-arrives Spring.)
It isn’t fair to Pete. I mean he gets up (to an incredibly loud and head-splitting alarm) and goes out to work every weekday morning while I stay in bed for another few minutes and then leisurely start my day. (Totally off topic, but it appears those extra few minutes everyday have an effect on our bed slats and no matter how you flip the mattress there is a definite depression on my side of the bed. Hmmm.)
I am working to rectify this situation (the crowded wardrobe and the depressed mattress). Every few months I weed out enough clothes (or find new places to store them) to allow Pete’s shirts back in the wardrobe without a lot of shoving and relatively crease-free.
And then I find a dress or skirt or whatever I can’t be without.
It’s an endless cycle.
It has to be stopped.
I mean, he’s not asking for much, is he? Just the ability to put his clothes away.
What kind of wife would I be if I deny him this luxury?
Of course, if I do suddenly have to start dressing for work, then all bets are off and we will again tussle for wardrobe space.
But until that time, I will endeavour to make space for Pete in the wardrobe (and the rest of the house) because, as we geographers like to say, 'Space Matters.'