The house we currently own is over 100 years old. It's not a bad house, really. Except for one thing...it lacks closet space. To the point that it actually has one 'real' closet in the entire house. Sure, the previous owners built 'closets' into two of the bedrooms upstairs. This construction amounted to putting up a frame and enclosing one corner of each room, making a place to hang clothes.
But...yeah, not exactly what I have in mind when I think about closets and storage space.
I hate not having a coat closet. I also hate not having a linen closet. There is nowhere to stash winter coats, no place to hide the vacuum cleaner. It's just a mess.
The new house, that we're getting closer and closer to actually, maybe owning...ahh, the closets.
You know you're a grown up when the most exciting thing in your life is the possibility of owning so very many closets.
The walk-in closet in the master bedroom is bigger than the living room in my second apartment in Chicago. There is a coat closet when you walk in the front door. There are three other bedrooms, each with its very own actual closet.
And let's not forget the linen closet at the top of the stairs! Oh wow, the closets. I know. I just might be losing my mind. But if so, at least I'll have a variety of closets in which to hide and peel the paint as I mumble about the joy I've found in each and every closet.
A mom, a dad and two daughters. We're living ordinary lives with a twist of 5p- (Cri du Chat) for spice. But we're about so much more than our younger daughter's genetic diagnosis.
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