Two apologies. Firstly, for using the horrendously ugly word ‘floordrobe’. While I was quite pleased to find that there’s a word for that heap of once-worn clothes on the floor, it surely could have been less jarring.
Secondly, the reason I’m thinking about floordrobes is that I’ve just been pointed to a marvellous site but if your work has a curse filter you probably don’t want to click through. Unfuck your habitat is a far more bearable alternative Flylady – a home organisation blog that swears a lot, doesn’t assume you’re female, is applicable for folks who share houses/live with their parents etc and generally has a low-level non-obnoxious way of telling you to get off your butt and do something. With swearing. It shouldn’t make things more amusing, but it does.
Anyway, so far I’ve been rather liking their prompts. Here’s a sample:
Look up from your computer. Find five things in your line of sight that don’t belong. Get up. Put them away. Resume being lazy online.
It’s pretty much at my level.
Back to floordrobes. You know how, if you live with someone, there’s always some things that they do that drive you crazy? We had a stalemate for years. We both agree that there are some once-worn clothes that you don’t want to put back with the clean ones, but you’re definitely going to wear again so they can’t go in the laundry. I went with the classic floordrobe approach which drove Mr Woodsmoke crazy. On the other hand, his solution of putting them on top of the laundry boxes drove me crazy because every time I wanted to put dirty clothes away I had to heave off a ton of his stuff.
Finally, after living together for, oh, 6 or 7 years, we reached a solution. A set of open canvas shelves from Argos, 20-odd quid, keeps stuff off the floor, reminds you it’s there, if it fills up you know you should just clear some stuff off into the laundry.
So when Unfuck your habitat told me to clear my floordrobe I didn’t have one. I had one for 30 years and I don’t have one any more.
You know, I probably should add a third apology for talking about something so trivial on the internet. But still, it makes me way too happy. It’s the little things.