Which is a little odd, as I live in a three bedroom house. Alone.
That’s three bedrooms worth of storage and only me to fill it: for the first time in my life I have enough closet space.
I even have a little space over. Actual empty shelves. After years of cramped city living and every item in my home being stuffed with things, I’m living the dream of extra, unused storage space.
So I have a closet for longer clothes and one for shorter shirts and kurtas. I have a closet for my coats for cooler climates. I have a whole closet just for shoes.
Hell, I’ve got one just for trousers.
My maid cheerfully told me recently that she’s now worked for me for two years, which should mean she knows the layout of the house very well. And has presumably, at some point, looked in every draw.
Yet even armed with full awareness of hanging potential, she fully believes that whatever she irons should be jammed in one particular cupboard and no other. No matter, that she takes the hangers for this feat from other closets that have lots of space. No, ironed things must be squeezed in the one place that will crush them and ruin the ironing.
I tried explaining this. She smiled. She took the creased thing I was holding, re-ironed it… and then, when I wasn’t looking, jammed it back in the same cupboard.
Grrr. India, there are times you drive me mad.
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