Storage Wars

I took part of my afternoon and headed over to my dad’s to retrieve some of the stuff we stored there when we decided to put the house on the market.  Today I was mostly focused on clothes.  I need to acquire some new ones soon and really just couldn’t remember what I took over there versus what wore out last year versus what I gave away in the blurry first year of parenthood.

Good news, the punk-rock-meets-parochial-length skirt fits.  yipeee!  Bad news…is there any bad news?  Oh!  This isn’t bad news, exactly, but vaguely problematic news.  I have a lot of sweat shirts.  I don’t know why or how when I remember distinctly a couple of years ago being down to two and asking for one.  I think they all got together and bred.  The problem is that I really don’t have anywhere to store all of their offspring.

And this really is the crux of the matter.  Storage. This house isn’t the most limited storage house I’ve ever lived in.   The house I grew up in had one closet.  Yes.  I said ONE CLOSET.  IN THE ENTIRE HOUSE.  But I liked having my own large closet in our old town house.  It was awesome.  Now I have to share with J.D. and it’s just ridiculously small.  Also, you know, boy cooties.   AND, bonus, I can’t even think about a fancy organizer doohicky b/c they don’t seem to understand that one of the people using this closet is 6’2″ and has shirts that are as long as some other people’s dresses.

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