On coats

Look at my living room! Doesn’t it totally look like the brown coat section at Goodwill exploded in here? But no, those are all Lloyd’s coats. For real. He took the boys to visit his parents for a few days, and you know me! I took full advantage of the opportunity clean and organize. Well, okay, FINE, really I laid on the couch in my underwear and drank beer. Of course, I went to Goodwill, too, but they kicked me out. Something about no beer allowed, blah blah blah blah. WHATEVER. So when I got home I decided to clean out the ‘walk-in’ closet in our bedroom. I say ‘walk-in’ instead of walk-in, because I suppose it’s theoretically possible to walk in there, if you were a midget. Or a Pomeranian. Or maybe a medium-sized goat, if it's skinny, but not one of those freaky jumping ones because it would hit its head on the shelf right off, and I definitely don't want another dead goat in my closet.

It has never been easy to get in there but it’s been getting progressively more difficult, what with the three feet of crap on the floor and junk piled willy-nilly on the shelves and draped over the hanger rods. But I was determined, because I deeply love a tidy closet. Also, I thought I might have stashed some extra beers in there, but unfortunately that turned out not to be the case.

I figured out the problem right away- it was the overly ample supply of brown coats. You might think I have something against brown coats, but you would be mistaken. I LOVE brown coats. My brown coats, that is. Lloyd’s, not so much. It would be okay if they were all different; I could understand that. But the brown coats in question fall into two categories: leather and hunting/outdoorsy. Boring, am I right? I’m really tired of boring, so I took them all out, along with approximately 43 helmet bags and 217 backpacks (tan, olive, and camouflage in varying sizes and configurations) and heaped them into a pile that the entire population of Cairo, Illinois could stand on to keep dry no matter how high the Mighty Mississippi gets. If you don't believe me, look at the picture again and this time, note the tiger for scale. It's not a full grown tiger, of course. I wouldn't want to exaggerate or anything.

At the present time, a smallish golden retriever could walk in and maybe even turn around, so that’s a big improvement, but I am not quite sure what to do with the enormous mound of coats in the middle of the living room. Let me know if you have any ideas! I’ll be on the couch in my underwear, drinking beer.