Part of our house renovation means that McIrish will finally get his stuff out of my closet. Oh, back when we were young, it was “our” closet, but please. It was really mine, and his stuff was taking up valuable space. So now he gets his own…or half of his own, because I plan to use mine plus some of his. Also, the kids’ closets upstairs need to be redone since they no longer live with us (you hear that, Dearest? Come May when you’re done with grad school, you can sleep in the GUEST room for a couple of weeks before you become a fully fledged adult and move into your place, wherever that may be, and Godspeed, son).
Anyhoo, closets. The kids’ closets have a sloping ceiling the long way, but are fairly deep. They also have an eaves (an eaves? Or an eave?) on both sides of their room, since we don’t have an attic. When they were little, they called them the beehives, and the name stuck. They drew on the walls and ceilings and stuck glow-in-the-dark stars all over them. I plan to keep those as is and save one to use as a tiny fort for future grandchildren. Okay, okay, for myself and future grandchildren. Every adult needs a hidey spot where they can stretch out and sleep or read for a while. But otherwise, the spaces will have to be put to good use.
Enter Pinterest. Oh, Pinterest, you Jezebel! You seductress! You liar! I mean, please. As pornography is to real-life nooky, Pinterest closets are to human closets. If I needed a closet to store all my coach bags and Christian Louboutin shoes, Pinterest is my girl. However, not owning any Coach bags or CL shoes, it’s not helpful. Ditto the four cashmere sweaters in various shades of white. Honestly, who are these people who own so few clothes and use closets and statement pieces? Where are the sweatshirts? The stained t-shirts you use while painting? Where are the jeans, the yoga pants, the mashup of colors? We don’t all wear tasteful neutrals all the time, Pinterest! Some of us have muck boots and actually use them!
It’s the same with mud rooms. Every mud room they show contains a straw basket, a gardening hat, a bouquet of peonies and a pair of those tall red boots Martha Stewart wears. Perhaps a docile and immaculate Irish setter. Giant pink parka that keeps you warm in -20 degrees? Kristan! How tacky! Grubby dog bed with mutilated toys? Please. Don’t be so crude, Higgins! These dog beds were made by Ralph Lauren himself. Husband’s Carhartt overalls used for lumberjacking? Not in those mud rooms.
Also, Pinterest wants me to buy signs announcing where we are. “Welcome to my closet!” Er…whom am I welcoming, exactly? The cat? Another suggestion: “Laundry.” Why? Yes, I’ll be doing laundry for the rest of my life. No, I don’t need a sign announcing that. “Kitchen,” in case the stove, sink, countertops and fridge didn’t tip you off.
Neither do I want a sign that tells me I’m blessed. I am, and I know that, and I thank the dear Lord for that every day. I don’t need a sign hanging over my couch saying anything, really—thankful, grateful, blessed, family, love. Winter blessings, spring blessings, summer blessings, autumn blessings, pumpkin spice and everything nice. That being said, I do sometimes forget what season we’re in, but then I look out the window and remember. I recently saw a sign that said, harvest blessings. Harvest blessings? Sounds like something they’d say in The Handmaid’s Tale. Very Children of the Corn, very creepy, those harvest blessings. Also, did you really harvest anything? Did you? Are you an actual farmer? If so, you can have that sign.
We do have one sign. It says “Welcome,” and it will hang by the back door. Brief and to the point, like the Yankees we are.
Well, I have to go buy some neutral clothes and leopard print shoes so my closet is glamorous. My real stuff will have to live somewhere else, I guess.