When Closets Attack or Hurry, Get Mommy the Phone I might Need to Call 911

It started off as any ordinary Saturday.  Maybe a bit later than usual, as the kids slept in.  I got everybody set up with their breakfast and was getting started on the laundry that had been calling my name all week long.  I decided that I should probably get my stuff put away so I'd have an extra empty basket.  I got upstairs and started sorting out what needed to be hung up, what was going onto the shelf, and what needed to go into drawers.

As I started to hang up a couple of skirts there was a colossal noise.  I yelled.  The shelf crashed.  There I was, pinned against the opposite wall, buried in not so folded anymore clothes, and pinned by a 9'9” particle board shelf 16” in depth.  We all know how freaking heavy particle board is right?  It had twisted when it ripped off the wall and had wedged sideways into the end walls of the closet.  It seemed the more I tried to get out the more stuck I got.

The kids came running, the cat came running.  Next up was, “oh my goodness, mommy are you okay?”  “What happened?”   “Holey Moley!”  This all happened around 10:30-10:45 or so.  I still didn't know how I was going to get out.  My hips were pinned and my arms weren't quite long enough to reach around the shelf and get it unattached from the clothes rod, partly because I couldn't bend with the way my hips were trapped.  How is it I get myself into these kinds of predicaments?

I managed to kind of pull myself sideways over the shelf and clothing and get out of the closet.  As I stood there surveying the damaged walls and piles of clothing and shelf and broken plastic brackets, I felt like I was watching an episode of hoarders.  You know, the ones where you can't go anywhere in the house with out stepping on something or other.  My sorted, colour coded, seasonally organized closet was in an absolute shambles.

I am fairly certain I have never seen a spa menu with particle board exfoliation as an option – I wouldn't recommend it if they did.  My right arm was skinned and bruised.  The tops of my thighs were skinned and bruised.  I'm thinking I'll have various bruises showing up over the next few days that I will be attributing to my closet massacre.

Took me almost two hours to wrestle my way through the mess.  I used storage boxes to put my semi-folded clothes into and laid the stuff with hangers over a side table in the bedroom.  Got my tape measure out and made some diagrams with measurements.  Around 2:00pm we had a field trip to Home Depot.  You can do it, we can help.  Yeah, right!  Got great directions for where to go in the store for what I needed.  Explained to service reps what had happened and what I needed and away I went, with “all” my kids in tow.  I have three and I get, “are they all yours?”  Uh, yeah, my amazing circus that comes to town everyday.

Got home at about 3:00pm and started pretty much right away trying to get my closet back to rights.  By 5:00pm I was starting to hang things up again.  I was feeling pretty good about myself when it came crashing down.  AGAIN!  Noooooooooo!  This cannot be happening. bI had all the right tools and anchors and screws and level and tape measure and seriously.  SERIOUSLY!  How is it that I can possibly trap myself in my closet twice in one day?  More bruises, this time blood, and give it an hour and I managed to blister the back of my hand with boiling water making supper.  So NOT my best day ever!

Went on ahead and had myself one those ugly cries.  You know, tears and snot and great racking sobs.  Defeat sucks.  Then I gave myself a good ole pep talk, suck it up, put on your big girl panties, deal with it, and hollered for my husband.  Bless his soul, he comes up and takes a look and says, “hmm, well, it didn't hold.”  Yep, those were my first word too!  No, are you okay?  He just stands there looking at the walls, pretty much destroyed.  Screws and anchors ripping out of walls is kind of like the opposite of a demolition hammer.  It really is a mess.  He helps me get the shelf and the clothes rod out and I have decided that at this point I am done.  I will try again.  Tomorrow or the next day or the next.

Maybe I should be on those Rona commercials.  The ones where it isn't done right.  The big guy in the plaid shirt screwing up all his home renos.  I will not let this closet get the best of me.  I will prevail.  By all that is (I don't know – fill in the blank), I will fix this.  Or end up in the emergency ward trying.

I am trying to find something to be grateful for right now, but having a hard time.  I am grateful that I have clothes.  I will be really grateful when I have somewhere to put them.