The other day, I started cleaning out my hall closet for the first time this century, because I couldn’t remember what the bottom looked like, and I was curious to see if anything down there had changed.
Also, because so many things had been tossed in there over the years that – if you dared use it at all – you had to slam the door and hope it wouldn’t bounce back open, spilling detritus out all over the foyer.
Also, because I had a faint hope I might someday be able to store our suitcases there, instead of cluttering up the bedrooms. We travel a lot, so we have a lot of random luggage lying around. Some people collect teapots. I collect suitcases, duffle bags and backpacks. There are three people living in this house and, among us, we own four suitcases, five duffel bags and eight backpacks. Enough to take a Boy Scout troop on bivouac.
If you’ve ever cleaned out a closet, you know that things look considerably worse when you’re in the middle of the project, because the contents have to be hauled out and left in piles. In my case, this meant around the entryway, which created a traffic hazard for anyone foolish enough to come into my house.
This is an exciting journey of discovery, though, if you’re like me and no longer remember what on earth was put in there or when.
I found four, count ‘em, four Frisbees in various bags. Doesn’t seem that odd until you contemplate this: No one in our house plays Frisbee. Ever. We are not Frisbee playing people. So did the Frisbees mate and reproduce in the dark? No one knows. But, if you want a Frisbee, let me know.
Inside a mysterious backpack that I swear I’ve never seen in my life, I found a treasure trove of items for the snow, including hats, gloves and scarves. This surprised me, because I have another large clear zippered bag that holds all the snow gear, that we wear maybe once a year when we go and try to slide down white stuff.
I can’t even describe to you the joy I felt when I opened this backpack and discovered an item I thought was lost forever – my cute navy blue Roots beret that I bought at the 2002 Salt Lake City Winter Olympics.
It’s soft, snuggly and stylish. It’s the only souvenir I have left of what may be the only Olympics I ever attend. And it vanished many years ago. Naturally, I blamed my children for losing it, because that’s typically what happens around my house.
I did find one item I didn’t like in the closet – a huge scary looking spider that crawled…