My Closet, Myself?

I decided to scour the house this morning, leaving practically no stone or dustbunny unturned. I have to say I am impressed with myself. Things look good, they smell good and the laundry is almost completely done. The dark side is my lack of closet space, thus causing a constipation of unrelated objects clusterfucked with nary a sliver of breathing room. Here's the cabinet in The Chidler's room. My brother and I each painted one of the doors. His is on the left. Looks nice and neat.


And then BLAAAAAAAAHHHH! What relieved itself in here? Even The Chidler shows signs of concern. I'm not even sure of all the things I'd find in here. People are so much like closets. On the outside everything appears normal and put together. But then, WHAM! The mangled innards show their ugly faces. You just never know what's crammed in them.


My mother just came and picked up Snowflake for the evening. This is only the second night I have ever been away from him overnight. Not bad for almost two years old. I do miss him already. I just don't feel right without him. I'm scared though. Tonight it's a girls night out. The three of us will be getting together around 8pm. One of us will be leaving early because she's a breastfeeder to a newborn. Who knows what will happen to the two of us. I am such a lightweight. I rarely drink anymore and I haven't eaten yet today.

My plan is to eat something shortly so the bathroom doesn't end up looking anything like this closet.