My Closet

As I mentioned previously, I am clueless about fashion and clothing.

Generally, I wear tee-shirts and jeans. Because I now live in Texas, where it is currently, at almost 7 at night, still 97 degrees and 98 percent humidity, I have been forced to get serious about owning shorts.  When I buy shorts, they must not have pockets with flaps. Shirts can’t have them either. The reason: I know I am never going to iron this piece of clothing (or any other) and those flaps are just going to be a crumpled-up mess.

We have two walk-in closets in our bedroom: my husband has all of one and half of the other, with one quarter being my stuff and one quarter just sitting empty.

In my one-quarter of a walk-in closet, I have a few dresses (some of which are older than my kids, who are teens) and other dressy clothes in a plastic garment bag (to keep the dust off) for those rare occasions when I am forced, as in at gun point, to dress up.

I also have a rack of hoodies in different colors, including a couple, made out of fancier material or with a slightly fashionable design, that I refer to as “my dress hoodies.”

I have a drawer of tee-shirts, most of which came into my possession for free, some given to me when I participated in some event, others “hand-me-downs” from my daughter.

I have sneakers and flip flops and a pair of waterproof, indestructible hiking sandals that caused one woman, when she saw them, to declare, “My God, you could climb Mt. Everest in those.”

Well, at least I won’t ever have to hire a professional organizer to fix my overstuffed closet.