Drunk & (Dis)Orderly

Hello, my name is Trixie Bang Bang and I have a problem.

They say admitting it is the first step to recovery, right, Reader?

Well, the cows have come home to roost*, and there is no more denying my obsessive buying behavior.

My bathroom has a narrow closet. I mean, it’s super-duper awkward and I have to turn my body kinda sideways when I need to reach in and get stuff out of there.

When we first moved in I was all angels-singing-trumpets-trumpeting-glitter-falling-from-the-sky STORAGE! SPACE! I just knew this would be a place for everything and everything in it’s place.

Fast forward three or four years later – I don’t know exactly how long I’ve lived here, somewhere in this range – and my closets have become a giant cluster of fuckery with stuff mashed and crowded and piled. The exact opposite of how I dream of KonMari’ing my life. Very little in these closets spark joy. I mean, how can Gas-X and Pepto tablets and Theraflu “spark joy” – except possibly Theraflu, because when I’m sick, that does make me me more joyful to get a steaming cup.

I kept buying different plastic shelves and baskets, thinking that was the key to organizing this mess.

All it ended up doing was costing me money and excess containers and I was still left with Jenga-style pile of stuff – I’d have to delicately pull out what I needed at the risk of it all toppling down.

This whole mess was finally brought to a head this weekend, ironically because of yet another purchase. I had read about a new cleaner, Clorox Medical Hydrogen Peroxide, and ordered it up from Amazon. My shipment finally arrived on Friday. I was excited to start spraying every possible surface down in the house, killing all the germs that may have decided to take up residence.

Now, a few folks have said, “Just use Lysol, it’s a lot cheaper and does the same thing,” and “Good ol’ Clorox is a lot cheaper and does the same thing,” however, it’s NOT the same thing. This is hydrogen peroxide based and kills Norovirus, which while I don’t think I have that lying around on the counters, who knows what germs, in addition to fog, come in on little cat feet.  And this doesn’t have the strong bleachy smell of Clorox, nor does it discolor fabrics ala bleach.

So I got to work on a Friday night. I had thought about going for drinks – again – and instead opened a bottle of Apothic Red and unloaded my bathroom closet.

I needed a lot lot lot of drinks of that wine once I saw the mountain I was facing.

At one point I just sat down and looked at it all, not knowing where to begin.  Then I realized if I didn’t know what to do with it now, I’m sure not going to know what to do with it later so just do SOMETHING, Me.

I started tossing stuff that was god-only-knows-how-old, half used products that I have too much of, created a basket of travel-sizes of stuff to donate to a place that needs this stuff, and then sifted and purged and carefully reorganized back into three buckets: Hair/Products, Medicine, Cleaning.

I had a GIANT bag of stuff that became trash, also known as Why I’ll Never Be Able to Retire, Because I Bought a Million Lotions and Shampoos and Lipsticks and Mascaras.

The good news is, I discovered a brand new bottle of conditioner that is exactly like the one I had just purchased at TJ Maxx that afternoon. So my obsessive behavior is consistent, Reader. And now I have to make one more return to TJ Maxx, because I’m not keeping a $17 bottle of conditioner when I already have one that will last six months. I can blow that $17 on something else. Or, put it back in my bank account and keep it there, said Responsible Me.

And that’s how I spent Black Friday, Reader. Cleaning and drinking. It’s exciting times at Chez Bang Bang. Don’t envy my glamorous lifestyle of the rich (in cleaners and products) & (not at all) famous.

*p.s., why would cows come home to roost?? I mean, where did they go in the first place, that they are now coming home, and I think they are trying to steal the chicken’s thunder by roosting. Or the roosters thunder. Something.