Confessions of a Closet Cleaner

I have a dirty little secret.
I’m a closet cleaner.
Not that I have closet cleaning compulsions, the hangers aren’t arranged at 33 degree angles and nothing is color coordinated.

No, that’s just how I clean.
I have the best of intentions when I begin. I gather my “mess” and begin distributing it.
Everything in its place, a place for everything, yada yada, thank you Ben.
(I can only imagine that he had a lot less stuff to place.)

But somehow each pile of craft supplies or magazine articles, clothes to be folded or books to be read, leads to a misguided need to do things other than continue cleaning.
Or maybe I’m not done with it and to put it away would just mean I’d have to get it out again later. Why make more work for myself?
Not to mention, sometimes there’s just NOT a place for it.

Maybe the place it belongs is the place it is.

But when I hear that company is coming, I resort to my favorite method of cleaning.
I hide things.
In drawers, closets, entire rooms!

I know that none of you possibly knows what I’m talking about. Surely I’m the only one with this disorder. There is no way anyone else opens a drawer and uses their forearm as a Bobcat to scoop everything off the counter into it.
It’s crazy, ridiculous, why would anyone hide things instead of putting them away?

You’re thinking, I’ve been to her house; it seems clean enough, but there was that door that wasn’t open…
That’s right, if you’re at my house, and a door is closed, it’s closed for a reason.
Please respect our relationship enough to not open it. Please.
And feel free to hide dead bodies, illegal drugs, or counterfeit money* printing supplies
behind your own closed doors with the knowledge that I won’t tell.
Because I won’t find them.
Because I don’t open things that are closed.

Not even in your bathroom. If I need toilet paper, I’ll ask– or holler, as the case may be. Same with soap, lotion or ibuprofen. I’ll ask or I’ll go without, because I don’t want to open a drawer. I’ve seen videos where people set up snoopers and a million marbles fall out of the medicine chest.

OMG, I can’t imagine. I can’t imagine why anyone would store their marbles in a medicine chest, but it serves the opener right for opening.

I do realize that what I’ve done with this blog confession is challenge all of you to open my closed drawers, closets and doors. Maybe you’re curious, could it be true? Does she really “clean” by “hiding” stuff? Trust me. The answer is yes. Maybe you’re a rebel and have to break rules just to break rules. Well, stop it. It’s rude. It’s okay to be a rebel, but a rude rebel is never acceptable. Maybe you’re a kindred spirit and “clean” the same way. In which case, share the faith—something you know to be true without witness, okay?
Cool, thanks.

But then again, now that I’ve come out about it, tattled on myself, exposed my crazy, go ahead and open them. Just don’t touch anything– there is a method to my mess and you might screw up my system.


*Who counterfeits one dollar bills?!

About Mary Fran Says

I am an artist, crafter, designer and writer. I enjoy working with mixed media-- applying visual and tactile manipulations to telling a story. Not a lot of market for that, though, :), so I'm focusing on short story submissions and novel completions. Yes, plural. Lots of beginnings, too many ideas, not enough focus.
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4 Responses to Confessions of a Closet Cleaner

  1. Chris says:

    My problem is that I can’t remember where I hid things (too many closets and drawers?)! If they were still on the counter in my pile I would know just where they are!!

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