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Saturday, July 10, 2010

So THAT’S Where My Bell Bottoms Went…

The closet is revolting - and I don’t mean that it’s risen up and started to demand representation in the American Federation of Duplexes and Second Story Room Association.

Hangers! Where in the world did I get all these hangers? Why do they jostle each other so? And those in the back – are they? – what do you? – are those things mating back there?!

Perhaps now is the time we back up and explain that my turn-of-the-century house (that being the turn of the last century), has limited closet space. And we use the word “limited” here in its most basic sense. “Limited” as in “Are you sure you need more than four skirts?” “Limited” as in “You’re going to hang those pants? What are you, rich?”

Roughly four feet wide and several thousand miles deep, the people who built the house in 1904 had few clothes but apparently stored narrow farm implements in the closet. Or slept in there. Who am I to say?

The closet is foremost in my mind today for one reason and one reason only:

Pantsalanche.

This is what happens when you lose your cool, yank at any number of hanging items in your closet, and are rewarded with a Universal-Studios-like experience.

Pantsalanche.

If you have a dog accustomed to bringing small kegs of alcoholic beverages to the trapped, send him.

I’ll be in my closet for the rest of the day.

21 comments:

ellen abbott said...

closets? What are those?

FabuLeslie said...

Olive will be there to rescue you soon, complete with the alcohol hanging from her neck!

I have experienced many of these pantsalanches of which you speak. I had no idea what they were called, though. Thank you for that. Also, is there such a thing as a shirtnado? Because I think I've been in one of those, too.

CatLadyLarew said...

Damn, I hate when that happens! Which is why I no longer store things in my 3 foot by 1 foot closet. My pantalanche occurs next to my bed, where most of my clothes are stored since my small dresser is also full. But not to worry... the Wonder Dog is on his way with a little keg of beer attached to his collar.

Fred Miller said...

You had a pantsalanche. I had an oil spill. Been using an old cheap dresser as a garage shelf. After five or more years of cold, the glue is crystallized and nails are pulling out. I pulled open the oil drawer yesterday and it disintegrated like a Ritz cracker. I'll be rearranging everything onto something else. Probably the floor. Then I'll do some Will Ferrell style karate on the old wood. Have a great day, Pearl.

Anonymous said...

Mornin'Pearl. I recently spent an entire day thinning out my closets with reckless abandon. You'll find into the third hour nothing will look attractive or seem like a good idea. I now have thinned out closets and the fornicating hangers have been subdued, but I can't find my favorite grey slacks, that snappy little summer frock, or my pink wonder bra. I wonder what the ladies at the Salvation Army drop off center will make of that? Buzzy MacDuff (formerly of the dastardly puppy mill MacDuff's)will be glad to bring you over a nice cold one...you're gonna need it by the end of the day.
Yankee Gal

Kavi said...

Pantsalanche ! Thats a new world that you have invented. You might find your way into some dictionary !

:)

Blissed-Out Grandma said...

I am living proof that "stuff" expands to fill whatever available space there may be. I think I'm having a shoecano; they bubble up and spill out all over the place. Not as good a word as pantsalanche, though!

Yodood said...

Ya know how you can't find a paper clip when you want one? They are embrionic clothes hangers that migrate to your closet at the onset of the metmorphosis of puberty.

The mad woman behind the blog said...

Damn, I just can't merge towel and monsoon into a fun sounding word. But that is what I expect to experience in my linen closet today.

Oh sure, linen closet sounds glamorous but wait until you see mine. It looks like a linen's and things store regurgitated last year's inventory....and when I say regurgitated I mean projectile vomit.

Good luck Miss Pearl!

Cheeseboy said...

Your closet sounds about the same size as our turn of the century bathroom.

The Jules said...

We have what you describe, but they're called trouserlanches here in Blighty. A pantsalanche is when you don't get to the toilet quickly enough.

Well known old english word, trouserlanche.

Like a tsubrami.

And a shirtquake.

And a shoerricane.

I'll stop now.

And a tiephoon!

savannah said...

oh is that what that room is for in my bedroom? i haven't opened that door since we moved in and the MITM loaded stuff in! (i thought that's what the chair was for.)
xoxoxo

IndigoWrath said...

Pantsalanche? Is that like Boxergeddon?

Pat said...

I too am woefully inadequate in keeping down the number of clothing items I own. I'm grateful to the local thrift stores that are always happy to take my old stuff. I periodically overcome pantsalanches and shoecanoes and sweaterquakes but not often enough.

injaynesworld said...

You have breeding hangers? Damn, I could use a few of those. I have the escaping kind. I don't know how they do. I always shut the closet door tight, but every time I go in there, it seems like there are fewer. Maybe I could trade you some escapers for a few of your breeders?

婷珊 said...

快樂,是享受工作過程的結果............................................................

Tempo said...

I see you spared us the worst of all experiences Pearl...untangling said mating coathangers.

Phil said...

And yet I can never find enough hangers? Hmmm...

Wynn said...

It took me a embarrassing three minutes and one google before I realised what pantalanche was. Then I read the last parts of the post again and "ohhhhhh, that happens to me ALL THE TIME".

I have a close that has nothing in it. No shelves, no hangers. It's just a hole with a door.

Perfect for assembling your entire collection of black clothes in.

mac said...

Yep, I've got an old place from the 1920s...ONE closet, ONE !!

Luckily it's just me and my (sometimes) 16 year old son. He's a piggy who tosses his clothes on the floor, so he's cool with it.

Warty Mammal said...

Bwahahaha! Also enjoyed Fred Miller's incident.