I Hate Hangers
Today as I was preparing to put away some laundry, I noticed my husband's dress shirts and pants were hanging off of his little wardrobe's door and knob, instead of inside of it. My first impulse was to inwardly groan at this 'bad habit' of his, until I shamefully realised that it is just as much my own fault.
You see, my husband doesn't have enough hangers on which to hang all his clothing.
What's worse, when I find a spare hanger lying around, I steal it to put in my closet. I also don't have enough hangers.
So, what's with the hanger shortage? Why don't I just go out and get some more?
Because I hate them, that's why.
Hangers have come to represent a part of my life that I'd rather ignore most of the time. So, consequently, our household hanger shortage is likewise ignored.
I think Justin must feel the same way as me, as he's never been the one to suggest we buy more hangers, although he suffers the most from our deficiency. In fact, the last time I did finally break down and buy some, he seemed keen on only buying one package of five, instead of the ten I knew we needed. Hence, the ongoing struggle.
So, you're likely wondering by now, why the hanger hang up?
Well.
Justin and I have moved three times in the 3.5 years we've been married. Four times, if you count moving within the same town. For better or for worse, it is a fact.
Anyone who's ever moved can now think back with me and remember what they did with all their clothing hangers during that time. Based on my extensive life-time moving experience, there are four primary options:
1) Throw them all in a garbage bag, where they'll likely snap, and definitely slide off of the stacks of cardboard boxes you've tried to store them on.
2) Spend weeks looking for a box that will comfortably fit the awkward rectangular shape that two back-to-back hangers make, then spend a frustrating amount of time trying to fill the box by stacking them on top of each other, only to find you have huge box that is essentially empty.
3) Weave a string through the corner of all your hangers, like a key ring with too many keys on it. These will, until the moment they're back in a closet, cause you to trip, get tangled in things, and probably smack you in the face a few times during the transportation process.
4) Get rid of them.
Since half of our moves have involved flying internationally with limited baggage space, option 4 has become our preference. While I've sometimes managed to tuck a few away amongst my clothing, the bulk of them are inevitably left behind. We are, essentially, in a constant state of replacing hangers. It's the pits.
The quality of our hangers has consistently decreased. Our first apartment was furnished with luxury hangers. You know the ones I'm talking about. The soft, cloth ones that keep the little lines and pointy corners out of the shoulders of your knit tops. We had a couple classy wooden ones too. Our next house sported hangers from our local grocery store. Not cushy or wood. Just a nice sturdy plastic. Now, we get our hangers five for a buck at a dollar store. They're plastic, but they might as well be wire for the thickness of them. You know what though? I don't care. Because I hate them anyway.
Wow, Lauren, you've got some issues you need to work through.
I probably do. But here's the thing: it's not just the hangers. Those silly things aren't the only inconvenient baggage. There are a lot of other things that are awkward, or downright painful to try and bring all around the world. Things like memories, friends, languages and cultures....
They won't stay safe in a bag. They don't fit nicely into a box. They won't tie up well. Sometimes, I feel they're easier to just leave behind.
The trouble is, I can't replace them for 25 cents each, even if I wanted to.
So, I'm left with a juggling act. Sometimes I want to hang on to those memories, but it's too hard to remember if I want to move forward without getting all tangled up. Sometimes I want to bring along those friends, but life changes for people and trying to keep them wrapped up in my plastic bag might cause them to break. Sometimes I want to cling to languages and traditions, but when there's only limited space, I can't bring along a half-empty, awkwardly packed box. And yet, I find myself hesitant to "reacquire" these valuable things. Somewhere in the back of my mind is always the idea that they'll just be added to the pile of left-behind hangers.
I need something to hang my clothes on though.
You see, my husband doesn't have enough hangers on which to hang all his clothing.
What's worse, when I find a spare hanger lying around, I steal it to put in my closet. I also don't have enough hangers.
So, what's with the hanger shortage? Why don't I just go out and get some more?
Because I hate them, that's why.
I think Justin must feel the same way as me, as he's never been the one to suggest we buy more hangers, although he suffers the most from our deficiency. In fact, the last time I did finally break down and buy some, he seemed keen on only buying one package of five, instead of the ten I knew we needed. Hence, the ongoing struggle.
So, you're likely wondering by now, why the hanger hang up?
Well.
Justin and I have moved three times in the 3.5 years we've been married. Four times, if you count moving within the same town. For better or for worse, it is a fact.
Anyone who's ever moved can now think back with me and remember what they did with all their clothing hangers during that time. Based on my extensive life-time moving experience, there are four primary options:
1) Throw them all in a garbage bag, where they'll likely snap, and definitely slide off of the stacks of cardboard boxes you've tried to store them on.
2) Spend weeks looking for a box that will comfortably fit the awkward rectangular shape that two back-to-back hangers make, then spend a frustrating amount of time trying to fill the box by stacking them on top of each other, only to find you have huge box that is essentially empty.
3) Weave a string through the corner of all your hangers, like a key ring with too many keys on it. These will, until the moment they're back in a closet, cause you to trip, get tangled in things, and probably smack you in the face a few times during the transportation process.
4) Get rid of them.
Since half of our moves have involved flying internationally with limited baggage space, option 4 has become our preference. While I've sometimes managed to tuck a few away amongst my clothing, the bulk of them are inevitably left behind. We are, essentially, in a constant state of replacing hangers. It's the pits.
The quality of our hangers has consistently decreased. Our first apartment was furnished with luxury hangers. You know the ones I'm talking about. The soft, cloth ones that keep the little lines and pointy corners out of the shoulders of your knit tops. We had a couple classy wooden ones too. Our next house sported hangers from our local grocery store. Not cushy or wood. Just a nice sturdy plastic. Now, we get our hangers five for a buck at a dollar store. They're plastic, but they might as well be wire for the thickness of them. You know what though? I don't care. Because I hate them anyway.
Wow, Lauren, you've got some issues you need to work through.
I probably do. But here's the thing: it's not just the hangers. Those silly things aren't the only inconvenient baggage. There are a lot of other things that are awkward, or downright painful to try and bring all around the world. Things like memories, friends, languages and cultures....
They won't stay safe in a bag. They don't fit nicely into a box. They won't tie up well. Sometimes, I feel they're easier to just leave behind.
The trouble is, I can't replace them for 25 cents each, even if I wanted to.
So, I'm left with a juggling act. Sometimes I want to hang on to those memories, but it's too hard to remember if I want to move forward without getting all tangled up. Sometimes I want to bring along those friends, but life changes for people and trying to keep them wrapped up in my plastic bag might cause them to break. Sometimes I want to cling to languages and traditions, but when there's only limited space, I can't bring along a half-empty, awkwardly packed box. And yet, I find myself hesitant to "reacquire" these valuable things. Somewhere in the back of my mind is always the idea that they'll just be added to the pile of left-behind hangers.
I need something to hang my clothes on though.
Comments
Post a Comment