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Monday, November 25, 2002
I'm back. Sort of.

This rant was triggered by Steven Green. I'm still way too busy to be spending time on this, so there must be another reason. I blame him.

My wife and I have been married for ... Oh shit! Well, let's just say we've been married for a hell of a long time. I acknowledge but do not understand her need to hang on to things that might become useful at some point in the future. (Paper things, like the receipt for the toaster oven don't count. I'm talking worn out knicknacks, bad art and thirty year old stuffed animals, here.)

This phenomenon became apparent shortly after we purchased our first home. For years we had been living in apartments. Usually one bedroom apartments, and always without adequate closet space. Typically, there was a coat closet, a linen closet and one closet in the bedroom (sometimes two!). Of course that was not enough, so we called upon my parents to store those precious goodies that could neither be thrown out nor stored on site.

We then purchased a four bedroom home with a double closet in each bedroom (two in the master bedroom), a linen closet and a coat closet. So we went from four single closets to five double closets and two single closets. And a whole basement. And a garage. You would think that an increase of that magnitude would be sufficient for to house our junk, at least for a short while.

That was when I discovered, to my horror, that the love of my life actually intended to repatriate all of that stuff that had languished for years in my parents' attic. I had been laboring under the illusion that, having achieved the moral equivalent of exiling the stuff to Siberia, I was rid of it. Wrong again, peabrain!

Within a month of moving in to our new home, ALL of those closets were full. Now, I have never listened to Fibber McGee and Molly (the radio show with the running gag about the overstuffed closets), it was before my time. Yes, children, there is a specific historical period which legitimately counts as "before my time" and it ain't the pleistocene era. Despite never having personally experienced Fibber McGee and Molly, I am quite sure that we are talking McGee level full closets, here.

So, Steven, please know that there is no such thing as "sufficient" closet space for the female of the species.
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