It started with organizing the sweaters that were falling this way and that, then moved to the crumpled up jeans on the opposite shelf, then turned into a full-blown purge.
One huge garbage bag later, the metal rods are still bowing precariously in the middle, but darned if the closet doesn't look so exquisite I can't stop going in and peeking at it.
(I would give a photo but there's no way to capture the closet in its entirety, so sadly, you won't get to see the glorious essence of its organization. Boo.)
With a closet purging naturally comes an influx of clothes-less hangers.
I have decided said hangers belong to some sort of evil empire.
In trying to untangle them, I hadn't seen myself have a tantrum of that magnitude since driving on Interstate 81 Monday.
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