The Wardrobe Reorganisation

I know I've been talking a while about stuff that still needs doing and that I still haven't done.

I wanted to do it all this weekend, but, well... By now you know the true me. Why scrub the oven when you can have McDo at unchristian times of the night?

But I'm still feeling a bit of residual guilt over Friday and not adding vanilla to the welcome-home cupcakes. And I'm currently on weekend mode: no idea what day it is, wide awake in the middle of the night, dead tired as soon as there's daylight.

So I turned on the dishwasher, did dishes, tied off a garbage bag and put a new one in. I tried scrubbing the oven's grill, which had no result on the grime imbedded in there. Must ask dad about his amazing grill-cleaning tricks.

I scrubbed a bit at the oven itself, but after about ten minutes of getting a lot of soot off and a lot of soot staying there, I just scrubbed the window clean, did for the sides what I could and took the internet's advice about the stains on the bottom. I poured sodium bicarbonate over it, sprayed it with water and let it sit for the night.

I checked on the T-shirts still in the wash. The laundry machine was having issues again, but a quick reset quickly took care of that. My felted slippers were grimy, so I tossed those in the machine after hanging up the T-shirts, putting on a wool wash program.

The things I wearing went into the laundry, except for my panties. My panties, my amazingly comfortable and supportive Pieces girl-boxers, had a hole in them. The kind where I've learned they've had a long and comfy life, but now it's time to let go. I'd noticed earlier, and found room in my budget to buy new Pieces underwear. It's not the cheapest, but neither is it the most expensive. Also, the website was reducing the price for every three pieces bought and they wouldn't let me buy anything under forty euros. It's insane, but I paid slightly less than forty-two euros for eight pieces of underwear. I know the brand, and I know what size I have when shopping there. Next week, I'll have gloriously drab-colored boxers and cute lace-rimmed panties to drown my sadness in over losing my first pair of Pieces underwear. Then I took a quick shower. I know this won't endear me with the neighbours, but I was feeling grimy, dammit.

Next I took my amazing folding board and shlepped it to the bedroom. Window closed, lights on, plan on working fast enough to not turn the place into a sweat-scented locker room.

First came the pajamas. What do I wear, what don't I wear? The least often worn on the back pile, the stuff I like on the front, bottoms on the bottom, tops on the top.

Then my trousers. It's basically jeans and sweatpants, but I don't know a less fancy term for a collection of those than trousers. I'd figured out how to fold pants with them during my last non-towel laundry load, so I folded it all, sorted it in less-worn jeans, sweatpants and worn jeans and put it all back in the wardrobe.

By now, I'd noticed that there seemed to be a lot more room in there somehow. I don't know where it came from, but my pajamas were no longer crammed in and I had double as much room to stuff socks next to my trousers as before. It's spooky is what it is. Boyfriend was also checking in on what I was doing at this time of night. He may or may not have asked if I was feeling okay. I was.

Then came the conundrum of my tops. Over half of them don't fit anymore, but my mother has managed to instill enough guilt in me that I don't throw them out. You know, in case the fat-fairy comes by and magics away twenty kilos of my body weight without removing body parts. Or if I go biking more and actually don't use that as an excuse to eat more chocolate-dipped, deep-fried yum-yums. Both scenarios are unlikely, but you never know.

First I sorted it into 'fits' and 'doesn't fit'. 'Doesn't fit' got folded first. On top of that came the ones that fit, but don't fit well. Followed by two sweaters that are better off folded than hung up, followed by cold-day wear and the category 'shouldn't wear in public but comfy'. Then I started a second pile of things I could wear, sorting them on sleeve length.

Before, there were two piles of tops, desperately crammed into the wardrobe and remembered whenever I saw something that might be both flattering and affordable in the store. Now, I think I could manage buying one or two new shirts. I'd even have room left.

The entire process took maybe forty minutes. By then my slippers were done. I shaped them into their slipper-shapes again and threw in the pot holders that had gotten into an unfortunate mix-up with the slurry of water, batter and molten butter where we'd been soaking our muffin paraphenelia. After that, I have a load of coloreds waiting to be washed, a pile of darks I could wash and by then it's probably time to walk Iggy. In the meanwhile, I'm going to empty the dishwasher, watch some series and maybe read a bit. Because, in all honesty, I'm only just now starting to get tired.