The boxes have been on the top shelf or in the corner of the closet floor for years.
Out of sight ... out of mind.
That pretty much sums up my closet.Cracking the door open, sticking my arm inside, I find a pair of black running shorts and a tee shirt ... every color matches black ... and put them on.
Sarah's closet is meticulously organized through she can't possibly fit anything else inside and has begun "coveting" my closet ... which quite honestly ... I have no idea what's in there.
There some Union Mission clothes I have no need for ... a tie Chelsea gave me when she was little ... a tuxedo I hope to never wear again ... shoes I hate ... and God only knows what else.
"Honey," I say to my wife who I adore than anything ever, 'Thou Shalt Not Covet. It's one of the Ten Commandments."
"So," she says. "You've broken more than me."
"Damn," I think to myself, "she's right again."
Anyway ... because I love my wife ... I actually opened my closet door and pulled out boxes of ... I have no idea ... boxes ... and not wanting to carry them downstairs ... I left them in the Red Room ... which Sarah immediately spied ... and suddenly a nice night of my head in her lap was evilly transformed into sitting in the floor looking at every single thing in those damn boxes.
I'll cut to the chase ... aside from a couple of funny letters from Bill Berry (not the former drummer from REM but the other one) ... it was mostly crap ... news clippings of things that no longer matter ... old pictures ... awards ... and reports cards.
"Seriously" Sarah asks sitting there with those beautiful legs, "you made D's in English?"
"I don't remember ever taking English," I lustfully reply.
BUT ... the excavation of my closet has begun!
Sarah is beside herself as Mother's Day looms ... which is also her birthday ... because she's getting more closet space ... and I'm discovering just how much past I have buried.
To celebrate everything ... the girls and I decided we're having Key Lime Pie for her Birthday ... as she pries things out her closet to loosely hang them in what used to be mine ... we will celebrate O.U.R.S.
That's all there really is anyway.
