Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board

So I finally broke down over the weekend and cleaned out my closet.

This does not sound like the start of a good story, but trust me, it gets better. (For ethical reasons, I feel obliged to inform you that it does not, in fact, get better.)

See, I'd been putting this off for roughly 8 months. Any time something broke (like a dining room chair, a computer monitor, or a plastic bobblehead dog) rather than repair it or throw it away, I would just store it in the closet for later. Then when I got my new king-size bed, I decided to retain the old full sized mattress and box spring for tactical purposes (also I am lazy and didn't want to have to carry it farther than 5 feet anywhere) so it went in there as well. AND THEN when I got my new TV, I didn't want to carry the giant box that it came in out to the dumpster (which would almost literally be like carrying a sign that says "Please Rob Me" around my not-so-nice neighborhood), so into the closet it went.

Considering the pre-existing boxes of clothes, bedding, Christmas trees, unopened blenders, books that are either ugly or don't fit into my shelves, garbage bags full of stuffed animal beavers that I have stashed away in the hopes that people forget about that period of my life, etc. that already littered the place, we sort of hit a critical mass in there about 4 months ago. And yet I did nothing.

"But Jason," you say. "A closet is for keeping clothes. How do you live life with no access to your wardrobe?"

To that, I say "Bah!"

I can adapt to anything. While yes, technically there was roughly 10 feet of hanging space in the closet that I could not access, I could still reach the 18 inches directly in front of the closet door. Which is just enough space to cram every dress shirt and pair of slacks I own, as long as I pushed really hard. And while I could no longer reach the shelves where my folded clothes should go, I was able to clear off two tiny spaces on the wire rack that stood directly beside the closet door, on which I was able to precariously stack every other piece of laundry I owned. So not only did I work it out, I never technically had to enter the closet after that point, to defend against the off chance that it might consume me entirely.

This setup lasted until this weekend when I had to retrieve a blanket for a house guest and nearly lost my life when I got stuck between the box spring, my space heater, and a lamp, and almost had to call the fire department to come in to rescue me with the jaws of life.

Thus, on Sunday I steeled myself and started yanking things out. You know at the circus, when the clowns come out of the tiny car? Imagine instead that the tiny car is actually a giant SUV, and yet still a proportionate number of clowns come out of it. Like, instead of 10 clowns out of a VW, imagine a million clowns coming out of a Hummer. (Lets all stop and wonder in horror at the idea of a million clowns. Move on when you stop shuddering.)

This imagination adventure was necessary because my closet is only moderately sized, and yet I managed to pull enough stuff out of there to fill my entire bedroom, my bathroom, and part of the hallway. It defied the laws of space, time, and physics. I found things in there I'm pretty sure I hadn't seen since I left the metaphorical closet back in 2001 - up to and including my high school graduation cap, a broken saxophone, a computer from 1994, and what I can only assume was once a mattress pad, before the ravages of time turned it into a synthetic pile of foamy dust.

Once suitably cleared out, I set about empirically deciding which items could effectively be thrown out without one day possibly missing them. Which by my insane qualifications meant tossing 2 things: the (assumed) mattress pad lump and the box that the giant TV came in. Because you never do know when you're going to need a desktop computer from 1994, or a stack of outdated video cards from 1999-2003.

I realize that I may have some packratting issues.

But in any case, I attempt then to carry said giant TV box from my bedroom to the dumpster across the apartment complex. You would think this would not be a difficult thing, but only if you haven't met me. The box is open on either end, but is both too wide to carry lengthwise and too long to stand on its end and still be carryable. Since I am by myself, I compromise and just half-carry it by holding one of the short ends and prop the rest against my body at an angle upwards. Sort of like I'm about to do a pole vault, only instead of a pole I've got a long and wide empty cardboard box. Since I'm fighting both gravity and my own weakness, I have to book it pretty quickly across the parking lot, lest the whole thing crash down to earth and I end up in a sobbing heap on the (really, really hot) asphalt.

I still maintain that this plan was solid, and totally would have worked, had it not been windy that afternoon. But alas. Halfway across the parking lot, a huge gust of wind picks up and hits the box broadside. I am bodily picked up by the force of it and spun 90 degrees, so that instead of half running towards a dumpster, I am now half running directly at several parked cars.

I attempt to course correct for this by shifting my left arm and part of my body to the backside of the box and pushing with all my might. I am half successful in this attempt, insofar as I regain my original heading without killing myself or falling over my own feet. This success lasts approximately 2 seconds before the second gust of wind hits. This time I am already braced against the backside of the box, so you'd think that would be enough to compensate.

But I did not factor in the part where I am weaker than the plot of Transformers 2. The wind overpowers my counteractive push to the point where I am literally forced backwards 5 feet and am bodily slammed into the back of a parked car. Who's alarm of course immediately starts going off, seemingly loud enough to cause permanent ear damage and alerting every single person within a 1 mile radius to come out and witness my humiliation.

This is how I meet my new neighbors now, apparently. Wedged up against their car, beaten into submission by a cardboard box that weighs approximately 10 pounds. And of course by the time they come around, there is no wind at all to speak of, so the neighbor's wife is able to easily pick up the box without aid.

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So what lesson did we learn?

Never throw anything out.

OR

Just stop going out in public at all.

Both are good.