I once had a place to put my clothes.  It had hangers and shelves.  It was kind of cool.  I could walk into it and close the door.  It became my escape from the world.  I could imagine myself transported to another time, another place, or another world.  I would go on the grandest adventures.  But alas, those days are gone.  I got married and bought a home with my wife to call my own.

 

I remember when I first saw the big closet.  It was an empty canvas waiting to have a masterpiece painted upon it.  Funny thing about those masterpieces we see in the museums.  Although, one artist could influence another artist in the outcome of the painting, two masters never actually shared a canvas.  So it was with what I thought was my closet.

 

The next time I saw the closet it looked as if it had been vandalized by a gang of angry brides maids, but I soon found out that no, it was just Kerri’s stuff crammed into my doorway to escaping reality.  I tried to barter for some space in which to call my own.  But Kerri told me the only way I could have “my space” was to log onto the internet and find a guy named “Tom”.  I did this and learned that it’s impossible to hang a shirt on the internet.  

 

So I now find myself trapped in this world with no way out.  This world is peculiar.  I’m in a place where it is not out of the ordinary to reach for the dust cleaner and a pair of shorts at the same time.  Or if I’m in the pantry getting the peanut butter anyways, might as well, get my slacks.  Or asking a neighbor, “Hey not only would I like a cup of sugar, but could I have my leather jacket as well, thanks.”  Yes this world is backward from the one I came from.  You see on my home-world the men not only wore the pants, but they had a place to put them as well.