Iím restless and bored, I perform unnatural
actsólike organizing closets. Generally, I get
these urges once or twice a decade. A weird
compulsion attracts me to the black hole that exists
next to my master bathroom. I say "black
hole" because entire ensembles have entered
there and disappeared. My daughter denies having
ever borrowed any of my clothing. So I presume the
heavy mass of coats, purses, shoes and auto parts
has simply folded in upon itself like a dense star.
Finally, I broke down and took an inventory of
this closet. And that caused me to discover three
boxes of items that had been lost since 2002, a pair
of hiking boots I purchased for a trip in 1999, and
a mother-of-the-bride dress from a wedding that was
cancelled the same year. All this before Iíd made
it past the bird clock (still in its original
packaging) and the auto steering wheel. It was time
to regain control of this space.
A quick study of Feng Shui, the Chinese art of
placement, revealed how important it is for doors to
swing freely open. Nothing should be stored behind a
closet door, according to Feng Shui beliefs.
Furthermore, nothing should be placed above the
entrance because such practice produces feelings of
depression and anxiety. Already I was experiencing
those effects from simply looking past the door.
Feng Shui theory holds that closet clutter
represents hidden problems impeding our progress in
life, work, and relationships. Judging from the
looks of my cache, Iíve been hampered by a
disregard for time (bird clock), shortage of energy
(hiking boots), and lack of a suitable vehicle
(steering wheel) to achieve my goals.
I drew a deep breath, closed my eyes, and
attempted to summon my chi.
"Spaces that are completely full block the
flow of chi (vital energy)," said my Feng Shui
guidelines for storage areas. No wonder Iíd been
feeling lethargic lately. My walk-in closet was a
fashion freak house. I own more garment sizes than
"Avoid holding on to clothes until youíve
lost that twenty pounds," advised another
article. "The more we let go of, the more those
in need can benefit."
Examining my faded Dallas Cowboys Super Bowl
shirt from 1996, I wondered who would want it.
"If you havenít worn it in the last two
years, you probably wonít ever wear it
again," the expert said. Ha! That just goes to
show what she knows, I thought. If I havenít worn
it in two years, that's likely because it's been
sitting in my laundry pile.
"Sort your clothing by color and
occasion," Ms. Fussy Pants continued.
"Avoid mixing Ďplayí shirts with
Humph. I couldnít see the point. After I did my
wash, the tops would just get rearranged. And then
before you know it, my good blouses would go right
back to hanging out with some shirt from the wrong
side of the rack.
To feel better, I peeked inside my husbandís
closet. However, I didnít walk in for fear of
radiation poisoning. His scuba gear, fourteen duffle
bags, a Dracula costume, three shoeshine kits, and
enough baseball caps to outfit the entire American
League threatened to cave in on me. Appropriately, a
fire extinguisher leaned against one wall.
"A full bedroom closet can block your
ability to attract a new relationship," my Feng
Shui instructions warned.
I shut the door to my manís private space and
smirked. From the looks of it, I had extra marriage
insurance. So thatís one closet I wonít be
* * * * *
Estill lives in
and writes about the absurdities of everyday life in
the Southwest. A self-professed domestic failure,
she spends her days avoiding housework and spinning
stories for her self-syndicated humor column, The
You can see more of her work at www.DianaEstill.com