Happiness is … Yes, you guessed it. An organized closet. At least it’s true for me and I could name at least 20 people I know right off the bat for whom it’s also true. (Those of you who don’t give a damn about your closets, you know who you are.)
This particular revelation about the nature of happiness came from a billboard on Route 38 in suburban New Jersey. There it was, big as day, “Happiness is an organized closet.” Right on, I thought. How true. Not that mine are organized. To the contrary. But on that rare occasion when I finally get around to hauling stuff out of one and delivering a car full of trash bags to Goodwill, I can state unequivocally that I am truly happy. So, speculating with my own brand of logic, perhaps that’s why there are so many unhappy people in this country. Millions of depressives popping pills. It’s their closets.
Now listen up, you naysayers. Consider this. How happy can you be if every time you go to get a pair of pants out of your closet, three shirts and a jacket fall from hangers, and a box precariously placed upon five others on the top shelf descends and hits you squarely on the head? How delighted can you be if every time you need that “thingamajig,” you have to plow through mounds of shoes, bags, high school mementos, inflatable mattresses, suitcases, photo albums, size 4, 8, and 10 ski pants, a pair of shin guards, costumes, fans, fabric, frames, a collection of beanie babies, carnival masks, a room air conditioner, black lights and wrapping paper?
For some of us, venturing into that dark place known as the cluttered closet brings with it a giant wave of guilt – guilt for having bought it all, hoarded it all, and mostly for having let the situation get so out of hand. You tell yourself, “I am a no good, rotten sloth, a failure of a human being.” What other conclusion could you possibly draw? Warning: A messy closet can be damaging to one’s psyche. Tidied up, it can make you feel like a million bucks.
Forget the lottery or that pot of gold at rainbow’s end. That ship of ours may never come in. As the wise ones have always known, happiness is about the little things. The small successes. The simple pleasures.
A good shoulder rub, someone else making dinner, a friend who calls to say you’re loved. A beautifully sad song, a glass of wine, a hot shower, and yes, a clean closet.
So imagine the joy that awaits, the bliss that lies ahead. OK, so maybe for some it’s not in tackling that wretched closet in the downstairs hall. Maybe for you (as I must confess it is for me) there is nothing like the sublime happiness that comes from climbing into a big, warm, wonderful bed at night. But, trust me, it’s better with a clean closet.
Sixties Chick 