About that Hall Closet

I just looked back through my blog to see when I last wrote about the hall closet – it was May 20th. I have slowly been organizing books in the new library, the former hall closet, and even more slowly trying to deal with all of the other “stuff” that once called the hall closet home. You may recall that when my husband decided to transform the closet into a library for me he moved everything (everything!) into Daughter #1’s bedroom, which is now our guest room. I have been procrastinating, as usual, and haven’t really found a new home for much of the “stuff.”

One of the big problems, aside from the sheer quantity, is the sentimental value attached to so much of the crap I own. There have been days when I really-truly wanted to tackle the job, but all I could do was stand in the doorway and stare at the boxes of my mother’s china, my husband’s grandmother’s crystal, and other assorted heirlooms. But, horrors, we are having guests! One week from tomorrow I will have actual houseguests, who will expect to sleep in an actual guest room. My procrastinating days are over. Today I made a dent in the “stuff.”

I opened one box to discover a zillion (okay, maybe 25) milk glass punch cups, each carefully wrapped in white packing paper. These belonged to my mother and they go with the milk glass punch bowl I remember so well from my childhood. But, where is the punch bowl? Since my lack of memory cells is well documented, I called my sister to see if she recalled where the punch bowl was relegated after Mother died. Nope, she had no idea. After discussing, at length, the insanity of keeping a zillion milk glass punch cups which I will never use (I’m sure I would still never use them even if I had the punchbowl!), she gave me permission to get rid of the punch cups. What a feeling that permission gave me. Knowing she saw the absurdity of hanging on to the cups just for sentimental reasons, and validating my desire to ditch them was a wonderful gift from my sweet sister, a gift which takes up no space in my closet or home.

But then I brought up Mother’s milk glass pitcher and goblets. When my sister “aahed” and said, “Oh, I remember those always being on the hutch in the dining room,” I knew I would be keeping them. The punch cups were not on display for the duration of our parents’ married lives.

But there was still the dilemma of what to do with boxes and boxes of “heirlooms.” I am rather proud of myself for coming up with an ingenious solution to my storage problem. The boxes are an eyesore – ugly grocery and liquor boxes with yellowed masking tape holding them together, there is no way I can put them back into my newly painted library and there is nowhere else to store them. Keeping them in the guest room is no longer an option. The solution:



I selected several rolls of nice wrapping paper that coordinate with the new paint color and I am wrapping all of the heirlooms. I am even putting gift tags on them, labeling the contents of each box. I have effectively solved my storage problem and I’ve also had a really good laugh, thinking about the day when my daughters or grandchildren discover the “presents” I have left them. Then it will be their problem to decide whether or not to get rid of the family heirlooms. Maybe milk glass will see a resurgence in popularity or be worth something by then.