Storage

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I was speaking with my daughter about perhaps a fun storage ottoman for her dorm room this fall to provide extra seating, storage for stuff, and something cuter than the steamer trunk nonsense that the college catalog was displaying. She said that she wanted nothing to do with a storage ottoman.  “Please do not get me one.  You love storage.  You love storage.  I mean, you just love storage!”  My mouth dropped.  Then we laughed.  Then she said, “You have baskets and boxes.  You have those ottoman thingies, you have those hanging storage things in your closet.  You love to store things.”

She speaks the truth. It pleases me to put things in their place or have a spot to stuff with junk so the room appears tidy and organized.  I store a lot of things.  I hide a lot of things.  I put things, thoughts, memories, feelings in places where others don’t see them; where I can’t see them.  But then, a box tips over…something or someone opens the lid to an ottoman…and who knows what will happen next.  Laughter, crying, eating, drinking, sleeping.

The thing is, almost every time I let others peek into the closet, it doesn’t end well. So, I keep the closet closed, stuff the ottomans full, and buy more baskets.  I literally have an empty basket sitting in my living room just in case I need a place to put something.  I can’t imagine the item or items that are on the way that putting them in that basket will cure.  But, just as I have Band-Aids in my purse, I have an empty basket sitting at the ready.  

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