I mean we've had in depth discussions about Gimpy-the-Ovary, at what point should I start being elusive? That time has come and gone my friends, come-and-gone.
Plus, dudes I just can't talk about adoption, anxiety levels are running at an all time high here in the V Household of late. I'm so nervous about referrals that I'm literally scared to move. The fact that I've lifted myself off of the couch to walk upstairs is all but a minor miracle.
So let's talk about my slum, ghetto-like closet instead.
Remember when I was saying my house is nice and tidy just don't open the closets because I can't guarantee your safety if you're not tied off to a solid structure and wearing appropriate climbing gear?
Meet my supposed walk-in closet.
I'd first like to direct your attention to the mound of clothing placed directly in the middle of the floor. These are in fact clean clothes from last week which I've been too lazy to fold. I became weary of them mocking me so I shoved them behind closed doors. No one will hear their screams. It's important to note that a minimum of five loads of laundry have been completed, folded and put away since this particular load, however I can't find the energy to fold these. It's a phenomenon.
Directly behind and to the left of the mound is a little wooden stool I use to aid me in buckling my ankle-strapped shoes. Or at least that was its original purpose. Now it holds Mound Number 2 which would be my dry-cleaning that I haven't taken in for about 3 months now. This would explain the empty hangers, some dangling quite precariously off of other articles of clothing. I've begun to get very creative with my ensembles. Unfortunately I've waited so long to take my clothes in, I may have to break into the adoption fund to pay for it.
Under MN2 you'll notice a purse which needs to be cleaned out and is no doubt jammed full of old receipts, linty-gum, vitamins never taken and possibly lip gloss in varying colors. Maybe a granola bar. It's important to note that I haven't used this particular purse since October of 2005.
Directly behind MN1 and to the right of MN2 is my hammered-copper lingerie amoire made by dear husband to house my unmentionables, which are hanging out and appear to be in no order and in fact shoved with force onto the shelf.
Now if you'll follow me and look directly above the mini amoire you'll see the housing for all of my jewelry. You'll also note that I find it difficult to return said jewelry into it's cubby and prefer to just stack and lay it around the actual housing. Opening those little drawers can be tedious people, especially when mounds must be avoided. Soon I will just be opening the door and lobbing stuff at the back wall.
Let's look at view number two. Please keep your arms and hands inside the ride at all times and remember I'm a professional, don't try this at home.
Ahh, there it is. A good shot of empty hangers and, yes it's true, my Louis Vuitton collection. Once, way back when, I attempted to compensate for my broken-ass body betraying me by buying over priced and quite ugly handbags. I don't know why. They're brown, did you know they're brown? This severely limits what they coordinate with, but I have a lot of them should I want options for the one outfit that works with them. That is except for the last one, my precious, my beautiful. You can only see a wee bit of it peeking out of its sleeper, the LV Dalmation Bag. I would talk about it more but I get weepy.
You can also just barely see my flip-flop rack. I own 8,234,987 pairs of flippy-flops, mostly sparkly because I take a great pleasure in sequins and things that are shiny on my feet. What's fun about this portion of our ride is I've acquired more and more by buying them and then hiding them in the trunk of my car. The secret of keeping questions at bay from He Who Is Cheap is to wear them a couple of times so they don't look too new and then say "what these old things?".
Speaking of shoes...
I have no fewer than 7 pairs of tennis shoes. I work in an office, I don't belong to a gym and dare I say it? I don't even work out. Why do I have 7 pairs of bobs? Again, I don't know but look how nice the look all in a row...
And to wrap it up, I give you the floor where that change has no doubt been since we moved into the house about a year ago. I see there's a Clinique blush compact which was probably purchased sometime in 1974 and you can see one of my favorite wedge's back there, but don't ask me where the other one is. If there were ever a fire and I felt compelled to save my favorite wedge's, I'd be screwed and would surely die as I rummaged through MN1 and MN2.
And last but not least there are my conservative old lady luncheon shoes in all their EEK! glory. Would it help if I said they were Channel? Yeah that actually makes it "old lady" worse doesn't it? I have some tiger striped kittens in there somewhere if that redeems me in any way? It's just going to take me a couple of minutes to find them.