I am in the process of having a closet built at one end of my massive master bedroom, and Nurse Judy, my diva alter ego, is mad about the whole thing.
Her irritation is not understandable, since she is the reason I am forced to do this.
The master bedroom wing includes an en suite, a hall, a dressing room and a walk-in closet. So, why do I need to cut up my bedroom and add another closet?
One needs look no further than Nurse Judy as the culprit.
The walk-in closet is completely filled on both sides with rows of her color-coordinated fancy, lacey,
bedecked and bedazzled wardrobe. There are also several drawers holding her huge assortment
of purses, jewelry, and other fashion accessories.
Beneath the rows of clothing are seven bins of color-coordinated shoes, a bin of fashion boots and a bin of bedroom slippers. There are also two full length shelves filled with all her traveling needs, including but not limited to all types of valises, hatboxes, jewelry travel cases, and numerous filled make-up kits.
The truth is she hasn’t gone to any formal affairs in a very long time and she hasn’t traveled in years, so most of the stuff filling up that space is never used.
I tried to get her to give up some of the overflow, but she wouldn’t hear of it.
The weeping and wailing associated with the thought of such a housecleaning chore was more than I could stand.
The result of all that fussing was my decision to add a small closet to house my frumpish outfits, thinking this would lead to making two people happy.
Of course, I was wrong.
Nurse Judy is as vain about the bedroom as she is about her attire. She has turned that space into an almost clownish fairyland.
The major focus is the bed which has a white wicker headboard and a white lace canopy hung from above and draped around the sides of the bed.
The bed has a lace bed-ruffle and is piled high with pounds of foam and yards of a puffy white bedspread.
To set this whole creation off is a heart-shaped pink throw pillow between the two puffy white sham-covered pillows at the head of the bed and a pink roll pillow at the end.
If all that isn’t enough, there is a stuffed bunny dressed in pink and blue leaning against the roll pillow.
I won’t describe the rest of the room, with all its white furniture, a blue and white antique settee, and many book nooks.
It’s enough to say it’s so overly fancy and overly feminine that your mouth puckers up like you just overdosed on pure sugar.
No matter how it appears to an ordinary person, to Nurse Judy it is a fairy tale room fit for a princess.
She is sure it will be ruined by an “ordinary” closet housing my unfashionable wardrobe.
“No princess wants to sleep in a room that has been ruined by the addition of a plain closet holding garments not even fit for a lady in waiting. It’s shameful what you are doing,” she wails.
“That room is my room as well as your room,” I remind her. “I am not a princess. I am not even a lady in waiting. I am probably not even considered a lady. I am an old woman.”
“You don’t need to act like one. You could dress a bit nicer,” she complains.
“I can’t wear those outfits trimmed in lace and sequins,” I say. “They make my old skin itch. I can’t wear those fancy heels of yours. I have bad old knees and can hardly walk in sneakers, let alone in those stilettos you wear. I will fill the new closet with tennis shoes, sweatshirts, stretchy pants, bathrobes and tennis shoes.”
Nurse Judy looks at me and shudders. She’s about to cry.
“I’ll have the closet doors painted with little fluffy pink clouds,” I say.
She unpuckers her face.
“Will you always keep the doors closed?” she asks.
“Unless I am actually getting or returning a garment,” I promise.
“Okay,” she says.
Crisis averted-for now, at least.