Wardrobe war not worth it
It is a quiet threat, but the battlelines need to be drawn elsewhere
THERE is a creeping threat in my household. The situation, if left unchecked, could see the vulnerable overrun by the forensically timed actions of a neighbour. It began when my wife and I bought and built some new drawers from IKEA.
Our bedroom storage exploded – no more would our crumpled piles of clothes be stuffed into overflowing cupboards. Three cabinets, nine drawers in total.
My wife immediately occupied five. I would be left with three or four. (She has more gear, y’know).
So in a gesture of peace and goodwill I offered to sacrifice and deliver her most of an extra drawer.
She has roughly six, I have roughly three. We are agreed. Peace in our time, right? But this ceasefire is uneasy.
“I promise I won’t encroach on any of your space,” she tells me. But it’s a vow I can’t take at face value.
My wife is a loving partner. She is also strategic and determined and knows I will never be bothered enough to challenge an occupation.
In coming months and years, the spread of her clothing, jackets, underwear and all manner of bits and bobs will start invading my space. It will begin innocently.
“I just need a bit more room until we clean it all out, and you’re not using it anyway,” she’ll say.
Then like so many stolen chips and sips of tea, she’ll eventually take what she wants.
Any empty space will be up for grabs as the annexation
I just need a bit more room until we clean it all out, and you’re not using it anyway.
begins then spreads. Shall I fight her on the cabinets? Shall I fight her over the drawers? Shall I never surrender? No. Because unlike Winston Churchill’s unending determination to fight the foreign threat, this is not the hill that I’ll die on.
I must live to fight other, more violent and vicious battles that are on the horizon. Like, “What do you want to do for dinner?’’