It wasn’t my whole life, just a few hours, but by the end of the project, it seemed more cozy than cramped. When I opened the door, I knew what I would see; I had seen it before, but had always groaned and shut the door again. Today, I  decided it was time to call “Closet Busters” – but they couldn’t come and so I took on the challenge as an amateur. There was a lot of stuff in there – stuff and heavy books . . . and soft, stuffed animals, and that doesn’t include the dust bunnies.

I cleared a spot on the floor – more easily typed than done – and sat down to start sorting. I sorted and sorted and sorted and then stacked books up on the far wall where the shelves are. Do you know we had a lot of books up there? Books from all phases of my life – including my freshman years first year Latin book? No, of course you didn’t. You also did not know that, oh, about 50 years ago, the classes would dress up in makeshift togas and get on busses and travel to the regional Latin Day. But you do now. I remember schools had representatives in the vocabulary contest  – I was one of them. I had this feeling while I was staring at vocabulary questions, others were reclining on pillows eating grapes – or maybe Twinkies. I also remember watching Quo Vadis one year. Then we would ride home on the busses in our togas and coats. Actually, maybe we took sheets that we draped over our clothes as togas; That seems far more likely.

Kids don’t take Latin anymore – I was at the end of an era.

After finding the Latin book, I turned over one of the stuffed animals and found masking tape on its rear end with writing on it. Years ago Quentin and I stared at the expression on each stuffed animal and gave it a name accordingly. I found Clueless, Thwacked (His eyes looked weird) , Resolute and Obstreperous to list a few. Staring at faces and butts took about as much time as sorting. Oh, by the way, The Scarlet Pimpernel wasn’t there; he’s down in Houston with Quentin.

But eventually the closet was emptied out and I looked around and thought about how happy I would be to have this little room if I were a homeless person. There were shelves and enough floor room to stretch out in a nice sleeping bag . . . and if I cut a hole in the back wall, I would have access to the bathroom.

I just sat there and envisioned a blizzard outside and me sitting all cozy and reading in my warm little carpeted shelter. There’s something to be said for a roof over your head.  Actually, it has possibilities on stressful days. Where’s your grandmother? Oh, she’s in the Shangri-La closet . . .

Okaaaaay.