Closet of Doom
That’s what I called the big closet in my living area. Mostly because I didn’t know what was in there. Well I needed to find out, and the answer was garbage.
I found such gems like my severance letter from c3i, to bed sheets I didn’t know I owned to the prise jewel; my kick ass, butter soft, coffee brown, suede jacket that I paid 200 bucks for! It fell off the hanger and was buried between boxes and then somehow got enmeshed in a summer blanket.
I’m checking it out, and I realized that it has a paint stain on it. Then I remember why I regulated it to the closet.
Fuck.
