This might sound odd, but I have no memory of closets as a child. I remember learning how to make a bed, dust, sweep, fold clothes, do dishes, and clean bathrooms. But there’s nothing about the value of hanging things up. I think that explains my tendency to leave shirts and pants lying on the bed or hanging on the backs of chairs. A tendency that drove my late wife to distraction, and even now gives me pause.
There are times when it seems my entire wardrobe is in a layered pile on a small chair just inside the door of the bedroom. Shirts, pants, pajamas, you name it, they’re all there. I’m always trying to reduce the pile, and I even know the best bet is to never let it start. But night comes, or a need to change comes, and there’s the chair. What to make of it? After all, one never knows what little action might open the door to no longer caring. So, I think the best bet is to care, and try to do better, even if there’s no one around to judge, except me.
