Y’all were so helpful when I was recently trying to organize my shoes that I thought I might elicit your help in the bathroom. Someone push on my head!
(When I was a kid, for about six months after my parents separated, my mother and I lived with my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Leo. They had one freaking bathroom because their house was built in like 1890 or something, and it was haunted. The whole house, not just the bathroom. Anyway, most mornings all four of us would be in the bathroom at the same time, and my Aunt Kathy would be on the toilet asking for someone to push on her head, a thing I found hilarious then and now.)
Let’s push on.
In my own house that has one bathroom because it was built in 1932, I have these cubbyholes, where allegedly one cutely stores one’s stuff. As you can see it’s moved from cute to horrifically sad in three short months.
So what I thought I’d do, see, is first of all get some slippers because when did these hardwoods get so drafty-feeling? Hang on…
Okay, let’s go to the bathroom. Every time I say that, I am delighted…
For those of you without org skills, and June please say “org” just all the time, you can at least creepy-crawl my bathroom cupboards, and who doesn’t like to do that?
The very top shelf has nothing, and next to that a case I use to store my makeup when I travel. I have limited closet space and also I think that case is pretty. Chris and Lilly gave it to me at some point, I forget why. Birthday?
Row two has a painting a friend made, and generic Kleenex. Really, I don’t know why I’m not a home-decorating blogger. The shelf next to it has an empty jar and a photo of my Uncle Leo and me. I guess we’re still sharing a bathroom.
Row three: Perfume I don’t use because it’s the wrong season for it, a pink container with nothing in it, water in a spray bottle to refresh my curls, and two kinds of facial cleanser I use because Hot & Flashy said to. (When I linked to her just now, I realized I’m using the wrong Yes to Coconuts cleanser. Goddammit. That’s why I’m not hot and flashy like her.)
Next to that cubby, and June please say “cubby” just all the time, is dog shampoo, a brush I never use anymore except for twice a year when I actually brush my hair, and soap.
Next row: Empty jar that used to have cotton pads in it but I found having an open jar was easier. Hair cream and more face products that Hot & Flashy told me to get. If Hot & Flashy told me to eat the blood of live rabbits I’d do it. Have you seen her? She’s so goddamn pretty.
Next row, another pink container that has nothing in it, and photos of my gramma, my Aunt Wa, mom and me.
I know you wish there were more rows, AND THERE ARE!
Next row: hair clips I never use and a flamingo. There’s a statement you make every day. Next to that is this pretty container that has all my reading glasses.
The famed cotton pads, and a jar crammed with contacts, scissors, Q-Tips and bobby pins. Honest to god what is wrong with me. Oh, and an emory board.
Then? Kleenex again and some special fancy soap from Chris and Lilly. Beside that, toilet paper, which as of this photo sesh–and be sure to say “photo sesh” just all the time, June–was taken away because Milhous won’t let me have toilet paper out.
The very bottom row, not pictured because you must be sick of my rows. You must be on death row. You’re about to have a row with me. Anyway the bottom row is a hair dryer I use maybe once a month and then nothing. Anything I’ve put on the right side of that bottom row gets taken out by Milhous.
Why do I always at all times have some iteration of a baby animal in my house?
Okay, so if you wonder if there’s anywhere else I could stick this stuff, let’s go look at the one sad closet devoted to bathroom supplies.
(“This is why I prefer my McMansion,” the reader said, swinging her horseshoe haircut decidedly. “Charm over closet space? Never!”)
The closet is a tiny little door you open with a latch, and here are the contents.
Top shelf has all the toilet paper Milhous refuses to let me display. That box has all the things in it you don’t want displayed, like Nair for giant mustaches and suppositories. Oh, and those washcloths are especially for makeup removal, and when I put them on the open shelves in the bathroom I come home to them splayed just everywhere in this house. Perhaps if you are planning to help me today, one suggestion might be, “Take that goddamn kitten to the pound.”
This next crisp photo has a backup magnifying mirror in case my current one stops working (shut up), toothbrush heads, contacts, root dye, Latisse brushes (why they gotta make the packaging so insanely huge?) and a charger for a toothbrush that no longer works.
Towels and washcloths crammed in every nook because no room. Hey, any openings in your McMansion development?
And finally, very neatly folded bathroom mats, now with Milhous and Iris. Imagine if you didn’t read on Saturday. “She has her dead cat in her linen closet!”
Here are both the shelves and the closet from a distance, as Bette Midler would say.
So that’s my situation. Please fix it. Thank you. Love JOOON.