Some people enter their closet without so much as a nod to red tape. I am not one of those people. My bureau holds my clothes, yes, but it isn’t easily accessible by the untrained dresser. I have drawers within drawers, socks within socks, shirts under shirts, shirts over shirts and so on and so forth.
My bureau is an impenetrable piece of furniture. On average, it takes me days to get dressed. I send in an application, requesting certain items, and when not expedited, can take several months to approve. The good news is that I never go out into public without wearing something that’s been adequately vetted.
My chest of drawers is not simply a collection of what I wear, it’s everything else too. It’s a spacious antique with what I like to call bureaucrats, working tirelessly to make sure everything is properly classified.
When I get dressed in the morning, I want the process to be the equivalent of renewing my passport. That way, I have time to think and reconsider certain things while the powers that be make their final decision.
The only issue in my life is that there is no similar safeguard in place elsewhere in the home. Bureaucrats rule the closet and bedroom but are rarely found outside those two safe spaces. The kitchen is somewhere that could benefit from a tiered fridgecratic apparatus. You shouldn’t be able to open the fridge and eat whatever you want. What else explains the obesity problem in this country?
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