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Aug. 7th, 2010 11:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thejunipertreeI got it into my head this afternoon to clean out the hallway closet. Who knows why? It's not as if, or so the Engineer said when he came home this evening and I forced him to go see, we go in there all that often. It's for storage; it's a closet.
But, the idea that he couldn't get to his comic books always chafed my ass, mostly because I knew that his not being able to easily reach his long boxes spells the comics being left on the kitchen table, which always equals a rather irritated me.
It's a fuckoff big closet, too, for those of you playing along at home who have never been to my apartment. And for those of you who haven't known me all that long, it's also my former bedroom. Which should do wonders in telling you that this is no ordinary closet.
It's about 12 feet by three feet, if I remember correctly. Or 9 by 3, I forget which. And I used to have the majority of my worldly possessions in there, along with my bed and a oscillating fan. I was so psyched when my mother and I originally looked at this apartment because, after having been kickbanned from the UK and torching my former life, I had been sleeping on her couch for many months. We couldn't afford a three bedroom between the three of us and I technically wasn't supposed to be permanently staying.
Almost ten years later and here I still am. And the closet is once again a closet. It's full of everything that the Engineer and I couldn't make fit into the rest of the apartment when we combined our habitats, all the belongings we refused to part with. His bass is in there, and its amp, neither of which have been touched in over a year. My turntable and all my mother's vinyl, which I haven't played in God knows how long. You get the picture.
This is the left side. You can see the comic boxes and the bass. Ignore the illegal explosives. When this was my room, the middle shelf acted as my vanity. There's another shelf above the comic boxes you can't see.
Right side. The shelves are now blocked by stuff, but I am strategic in what goes on those shelves. Three rows again. I refuse to be parted with that lamp, though I currently have no where to put it. My former bed was on this side, underneath of the three shelves which acted as book shelves back then.
Middle, and a bonus curious Timothy.
You used to not be able to step into the closet at all, up until my work today. I shifted things around, threw out a bunch of stuff that needed tossing, and basically reorganized. All in all, I threw out an entire trash bag full of nonsense.
At one point, I was going through a stack of framed photographs that had belonged to my mother that I had taken down from the walls and removed from the end tables after she had died. Some images I had to struggle to remember who the hell they were. I found a set of school photos that were of Eldest Brother's children. I held them in hand for a moment, peering at them and seeing his face within their bones and skin, then dumped them into the trash bag. He is not a part of my life any longer, if he ever was to begin with, and his children are strangers to me. I do not need these reminders of people who don't have my name in their mouths cluttering up my life.
But, the idea that he couldn't get to his comic books always chafed my ass, mostly because I knew that his not being able to easily reach his long boxes spells the comics being left on the kitchen table, which always equals a rather irritated me.
It's a fuckoff big closet, too, for those of you playing along at home who have never been to my apartment. And for those of you who haven't known me all that long, it's also my former bedroom. Which should do wonders in telling you that this is no ordinary closet.
It's about 12 feet by three feet, if I remember correctly. Or 9 by 3, I forget which. And I used to have the majority of my worldly possessions in there, along with my bed and a oscillating fan. I was so psyched when my mother and I originally looked at this apartment because, after having been kickbanned from the UK and torching my former life, I had been sleeping on her couch for many months. We couldn't afford a three bedroom between the three of us and I technically wasn't supposed to be permanently staying.
Almost ten years later and here I still am. And the closet is once again a closet. It's full of everything that the Engineer and I couldn't make fit into the rest of the apartment when we combined our habitats, all the belongings we refused to part with. His bass is in there, and its amp, neither of which have been touched in over a year. My turntable and all my mother's vinyl, which I haven't played in God knows how long. You get the picture.
This is the left side. You can see the comic boxes and the bass. Ignore the illegal explosives. When this was my room, the middle shelf acted as my vanity. There's another shelf above the comic boxes you can't see.
Right side. The shelves are now blocked by stuff, but I am strategic in what goes on those shelves. Three rows again. I refuse to be parted with that lamp, though I currently have no where to put it. My former bed was on this side, underneath of the three shelves which acted as book shelves back then.
Middle, and a bonus curious Timothy.
You used to not be able to step into the closet at all, up until my work today. I shifted things around, threw out a bunch of stuff that needed tossing, and basically reorganized. All in all, I threw out an entire trash bag full of nonsense.
At one point, I was going through a stack of framed photographs that had belonged to my mother that I had taken down from the walls and removed from the end tables after she had died. Some images I had to struggle to remember who the hell they were. I found a set of school photos that were of Eldest Brother's children. I held them in hand for a moment, peering at them and seeing his face within their bones and skin, then dumped them into the trash bag. He is not a part of my life any longer, if he ever was to begin with, and his children are strangers to me. I do not need these reminders of people who don't have my name in their mouths cluttering up my life.