Out of the closet

Now THAT got your attention.

At ease, soldiers. This is not going to be some sensational behind-the-bedroom door true confession.

Instead it is about home improvements. Two new closets to be exact. We are finishing our master bedroom closets.

My own design! Not to scale. . . by a long shot.

I can see it. Can't you?

Some background: When we moved into the Nine-One-Four 20 (!) years ago, we inherited a number of, shall we say, interesting home improvement challenges opportunities. It was apparent the previous Lord and Lady of the Manor fancied themselves as something of a whiz in the DIY (him) and decorating (her) departments. Turns out they weren't.

I know, I know. Taste is a personal thing. But I think you would have to admit four bedrooms with four different types (and colors) of carpet. . . purchased used from hotels that were remodeling their guest rooms . . . could be interpreted as a bit over the top.

As was the orange laminate countertop in the kitchen and downstairs powder room (said orange laminate also was used as the kitchen backsplash complete with strips of stainless steel covering its seams). . .

And the oversized matching valence-curtain-wallpaper look in the dining room, featuring a charming palette of "Lost in the 70s" avocado green, burnt orange and harvest gold.

Naturally, there was shag carpet (which I'm told is making a comeback) in the living room and cheap paneling in the basement, which appeared to have been distressed and white-washed for a charming country look.

It just looked distressed.

That's all behind us now. Gradually, over the years, we've pretty much re-done the entire place top to bottom.

Well, pretty much everything, except our bedroom closets.

When we took possession of the Nine-One-Four, the master bedroom closets consisted of four behemoth, louvered doors spanning one full wall and concealing two closets and a charming bedroom window. It took a small army to slide them back and forth.

The doors were stained dark, dark brown in a room that was white, white, white. We ditched two of the doors immediately, leaving two lone panels to dangle and lean precariously as they gamely tried to conceal our garments.

But we did gain a window.

The closets' interiors were fairly expansive -- at least for a house built in 1941 -- and the Lord of the Manor had done some updating, adding shelves (nice) and raising the hanging rods to within inches of the ceiling.

This latter decision still mystifies me. (Much like the Lord's insistence in installing light switches that work in reverse.) With his "enhancement," the closets were basically only suitable for Andre the Giant. Or a homeowner willing to use an extension ladder to hang his or her clothes.

A clear-cut case of closet disfunction. Bathrobes and dress slacks peeking out from around our two remaining panel doors -- and me performing an odd little dance of bunny hops and javelin throws as I put away the laundry each week.

But not for much longer. John the Builder is here, saving us from ourselves -- and our closets. Within the next week or so we will have closets with doors! functional rods! and a window seat with storage!

This can only mean one thing. We're running out of projects. It's time to move.