Linens and things

I couldn’t take it anymore and I needed help, so I went to Miss Cathy in the living room and asked what she was doing. She said she was about to take a nap but would lie down later if there was something that I needed. I said “great” because there was something I needed, I needed help……….help cleaning out the linen closet.

I’ve been here for months now and it has been bugging the hell out of me, more and more. You have to understand that this is no ordinary closet, it’s beyond a mess and was really starting to offend my sense of balance and order. You could never just open the doors, get what you wanted and boogie on your way. No, when you open the set of bi-fold doors you’re not greeted by crisply folded sheets and blankets, all fresh and clean, ready to help transport you to nocturnal wonders-oh no. Wrestling the doors apart you feel as if the linens were on the other side ganging up, the sheets and the blankets, working together, desperately trying to refuse you entry.

Once open, you’re bombarded with piles of fabric, haphazardly rolled, shoved onto any shelf and into any space available, looking less like bed linens and more like fabrics left on a clearance rack in a dollar store after a 100% off sale-what’s left on the shelves are what remains after all the “good” stuff is long gone.

You have to be careful less something may fall on your head, a-la-Dagwood Bumstead’s hall closet from the old “Blondie” comics if I may be so bold (or old, or both) as to reach that far back for a visual.

I’d looked at and wrestled with this mess of a closet for years. I’ve even “gone in” (alone) and straightened it out a few times when I’d come here to visit but it never lasted long. I’d have it all orderly and looking good in the summer but when I’d return for the holidays and go to the closet for some linen what greeted me was not a gift of anything that I particularly wanted.

So, on this particular day, for whatever reason I’d had enough. Maybe I was bored, maybe I was just looking to take control over something external instead of doing any work internally-I don’t know. Maybe the closet was a metaphor, maybe it’s come to represent how I felt about being here-“necessary but all over the place”. If I could get control over the linen then maybe my life here would follow suit-makes sense in a Martha Stewart kinda way, “fold it and IT will come”.

Anyway, I’d learned my lesson about cleaning out anything in this place without Miss Cathy’s co-operation. I didn’t want to hear any more of her asides or mumbled displeasure at what I’d done (to her things) so I made sure to include her this time.

She wasn’t too keen on the idea but she was a trooper. Instead of taking her nap she sat on the sofa while I brought the piles of linens to her, like a queen on her throne waiting for the slave to come pay homage with gifts of exotic treasures. I would hold up the sheet(s) or blankets so she could decide what stayed and what was to be donated to Goodwill. This process took longer than it should have (in my mind) because more often than not she’s stop “deciding” to tell me “a little story” about this or that blanket or quilt. As we went through the bedding together I was surprised as how much she agreed to get rid of, but as time went on I started to get frustrated by how much she insisted on keeping.

I guess my thought was that we’d (she’d) give away everything that didn’t have a match and just keep the full sets of sheets. Of course I would have thrown out everything that was a poly blend-which would have constituted all of her sheets except the ones I gave her BUT I had to remind my self that this was HER stuff for HER bedroom so I should just fold, arrange and keep my mouth shut.

Of course I couldn’t, several times I would ask, “Are you sure you want to keep THAT?” holding up the offending sheet as if it were road-kill. “This feels awful!” I’d say, barely able to contain my contempt,” do you really want to lay down on THIS?”

“I don’t care what it feels like, I’m keeping it,” she’d declare, defiant in her contentment to stay ignorant of Egyptian cotton and the knowledge of what it feels like to lay down on bedding with a high thread count.

I don’t know why but I started to take it personally when she would opt to keep a sad, threadbare, poly-blend sheet and pair it with a fitted sheet that was just as ugly and add two pillowcases and call it a “set”.

After waaay too much time (on both our parts) we finally had everything sorted out. In the end there were five large bags and one box to donate to Goodwill. I re-folded all that was to go back into the linen closet and did my best to group “sets” on the shelves according to color, pattern and season, blankets and quilts were up top, so that everything was organized, streamlined, uncluttered and has purpose. It wasn’t what I had envisioned but after all was said and done it was a successful collaboration with Miss Cathy, and there was harmony and order.

I closed the linen closet doors content. It was a struggle but it was worth it. Now, if only I could get “my” doors to open.