DROP ZONE

Okay. Enough is enough. Time to excavate the bedroom and hang up clothes. Let's take inventory: one sweatshirt, one t-shirt, one pair sweatpants, two pairs of socks, two bras, and one pair of undies strewn on the floor; three pairs of sweatpants, one pair slacks, one top slung over the quilt rack. Somewhere underneath is a quilt.

If this was the 1950s or early 60s and I was back home sharing a room with Big Sis, the above scenario would be grounds for war. Not some minor spat. Oh, no. We're talking Battle of the Little Big Horn, the bombing at Pearl Harbor, and Braveheart all rolled into one. Sis couldn't stand my slovenly ways, and I thumbed my nose at her neatness. Back then, we didn't have a quilt rack so I targeted door knobs as my main clothing drop-off spot. It drove her CRAZY!!!! Big Bore is another story. He could care less. He has his own little stash of clothes building up on the bedroom floor. As long as he can move around in the kitchen, he's happy.

Now, I am nowhere near the slob I used to be; in fact I have a good excuse. The dresser drawers are stuffed to the gills and my craft basket has been blockading the closet since Christmas. Yes, I still have ornaments rolling around and spools of ribbon ready for the cats to unwind. So, today and today only, I will find a better place to stash the basket and get the clothes put away. I promise. When tomorrow morning arrives, another clothing explosion may have hit the bedroom, but at least they will be different articles of apparel than the current ones. And I call that progress.