Adventures in closet cleaning - or what living on a tropical island does to your sole

After a conversation about "OCD" tendencies with a friend over the holidays, I realized some areas of my life that could use some re-organization. All week, I planned and became increasingly excited about organizing my closet. It really needed it. Once upon a time it was the picture of harmony and balance, with all articles placed meticulously in order according to color, style, length, pattern, sleeve style etc...

So I took to the closet, and halfway through found it to be a far more daunting job than I had anticipated. With the attention to detail of a jeweler, I poured through my wardrobe and organized my hangers by color - nearly blinding myself by trying to put the white ones in order according to gradient, as many had aged slightly over the years and were yellowing ever so faintly. Going through my clothes, I got rid of far less than I probably should, reassuring myself that I will someday wear those garments and shoes that have not seen the sunshine in years. I swept cat hair from the pairs of shoes that had been pushed to the back of my closet, sweeping up various body parts from dismantled cockroaches and other pests as I went (thank you Crush). Three pairs of shoes did end up in the trash, sadly, as while the shoes themselves were fine, the soles were disintegrating and crumbling to pieces. This is apparently what living in a tropical climate does to one's sole.


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