It was becoming one of those projects where, upon initial cataclysm, you realize that it's going to take some time and effort to fix. And then the initial problem just seems to grow and grow, until it becomes wholly nightmarish and unmanageable.
The time-table looks a little something like this:
1. CRASHBANGBOOM. Closet impodes. Clothes scatter. Cats further traumatized.
2. Pick path through detritus to get close enough to site of impact for inspection.
3. Shelves/bar down. Assess situation. Maybe just nail it back in?
4. No. Chunk of drywall came out. This will require screws.
5. Screws look dodgy. This looks like it needs super glue.
6. Super glue bad choice.
three days later
7. Clothes everywhere in a roiling sea of textiles; hangers poking up like danger sticks ready to impale. Can't find black cardigan. Or button-down. Or left dress shoe. All is lost in mounds and mounds of clothes.
8.Small Troubled Cat missing for forty five minutes. Emerged bleary-eyed from Sea of Clothing.
two days later
9. Late for work because could not find pants. Could have worn other pants, which were findable, but they didn't match the shirt I had found. Wearing findable pants meant looking for another impossible-to-find shirt. Catch-22.
10. In moment of fury, collect all clothing and create neat piles, organized roughly by their approximate location within previous closet set-up.
later that night
11. Neat piles exploded. I suspect cat involvement.
12. Impale foot on broken hanger.
13. Cry.
14. This is impossible.
15. I am going to have to hire construction worker to fix closet.
16. Call Lee.
After a brief ten-minute inspection, a trip to Home Depot, and less than an hour of magical work by Lee that involved hammering, the use of a power drill, and much muttering from Lee to himself, my closet was fixed. And secure. And he even hung a mirror for me in the downstairs bathroom. The entire operation took about an hour and a half, start-to-finish. After that, I cracked open the last of the pumpkin beers, and set to work folding, hanging, stacking, and organizing.
As a result: I now have a REAL CLOSET with CLOTHES THAT ARE HANGING UP. This was the last real feat of the Big Move, and I finally for the first time last night felt settled. I know where my black cardigan is! I know where my left shoe is! In the proper cubby hole next to the right one! I have a floor again! I don't live in fear of a cat suffocating!
Now, lest you think that my life has been consumed with unpacking and organizing (how horribly boring - clearly I am beginning to mellow out in my old age when my idea of a good time is ORGANIZATIONAL TOYS and a nice glass of chianti to aid the process), my boyfriend and I hit up Maisy's for the Forgotten Cocktail Club on Friday night with Lee and Hot Curry. The staff there rounded up some truly talented bartenders, put on some old-timey music, and displayed digital prints of Speakeasys. The fact that it was held in the basement, and that you entered through what looked from the dining room to be a coat closet, helped infuse the Speakeasy atmosphere.
The bartenders had a pretty impressive list of fares, including long-antiquated favorites like a champagne Pimms cup, absinthe, and drinks that include egg whites as a major ingredient. We sampled as many as we could (which was probably too many - old timey cocktails are apparently VERY VERY sweet, so moderation is key!) and came away with the idea that vodka sodas are boooooooooriiiiing.
Pictured here: an Anise Absinthe Smash and an Apricot Fizz. With egg whites. Total deliciousness.
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