33: Cupboard Chronicles

2 Feb

The maths geek in me, not, is certainly going to lose track of time and days, not because I’m swamped and too busy to notice, but because my day tracker has gone past the 31 mark. To elaborate, I found myself feeling a little disoriented when my posts began with 32 onward, because a month can have only 31 days as of now, and because anything that breaks the norm, makes me feel all over the place. How will I track which date I’m on from now on, was the first thing I exclaimed at, when February rolled in. Talk about being a “number geek”, and about being disillusioned, right?

Before I really, actually begin, I’d like for you to note that this is a very off the top, random post. Please feel free to not read it because it’s about matters of great world importance, such as my cupboard. Thank you.

Winter is on its last leg for real now. This means that I’ve to do the one thing that I really, really, really despise doing – sorting clothes, and preparing for the next season. Doing this is something that’s new to me because I’ve spent 98% of my life in a place that needed warm and light clothes year round. However, that isn’t the case now, because I live in a city whose weather patterns are extreme. When it’s winter, you cannot wear spring or summer clothing. And when it’s summer, you cannot think of wearing anything at all. Therefore, as with all things I despise, I procrastinated it till the nth moment, which was yesterday. Folding clothes, sorting cupboards, and doing everything else that falls under this category of domestic life is something someone would ideally throw my way if I were being punished – pity me, because I really do not like it. The excitement to sort my cupboard, whenever that arises, often fizzles out just at the time when I’ve taken every single thing out of my cupboard due to said excitement. You know how this story ends no? It all gets shoved right back in after a copious amount of time is spent either staring at the mess (hatefully), avoiding the mess, sitting in the middle of the mess, or just pretending like this didn’t happen to me. The entire purpose of “cleaning” and “sorting” out my cupboard, is therefore, and irrevocably, lost. Always.

The other peculiarity, and tragedy, I’d say, is the irony that is my cupboard and its contents. I almost never find something “decent” to wear, and/or always lament about how I don’t have enough to wear when I’ve to step out. However, when I open those very same doors on cleaning day, a sea of what apparently, and most certainly are, only clothes, fall out. It’s astounding how a) I’m so ungrateful, b) I keep my clothes so nonchalantly (the answer lies in the para above), and c) I’m a serial hoarder. I will not inflict upon your sanity the madness that comprises my almirah’s contents, but let it be known that I’ve socks that I probably never wore because what if I feel cold and need them, stoles that I’ve never worn because what if an opportunity arises, and other random shit that I’ve probably hardly used because what if they come in handy some freakin day? Anyway, the paradox of this pandora’s box is perplexing and definitely pissing off.

Of course I dumped everything everywhere, all over again, yesterday. My winter clothes are mixed with my summer clothes, my woollens are where my t-shirts should be, and my thermals have now been kept with such a haphazard attitude that I don’t know where they are anymore. What should be in my cupboard is in my suitcase, what should be in a trunk is in my cupboard, and what should be in my cupboard is misplaced, because I couldn’t find it today. What I’m trying to say is that I’d had enough, as usual, and that all the symptoms which are always an accomplice to this situation, arrived in time. I began feeling irritable, hungry, tired, cranky, disgusted; haha you name it, and it was probably present. I also figured that when the moment had passed that I would do a couple of things; namely – a) give away whatever I wasn’t using – but what, is still elusive, b) write about this insanity that plagues me, and c) seriously ask/request/beg for a genie.

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