Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,
I owe you all a huge apology for not writing to you in such a long time and not even publishing your most recent comments until today. I have been at war with an invader.
About two weeks ago, I realized my closet had been raided. I thought it was limited to a single aggressor who frolicked around my shoes and left his nasty calling card in a pair of yellow pumps. Then I noticed he had danced on top of a jewelry box with his mousy girlfriend.
As I vanquished closet detritus, I discovered he had brought his entire family along. At least I didn't have to see their ugly faces.
I'm not pleased that mice have been in my closet, and I find it odd that Franklin and Penelope didn't notice them; but it was a good opportunity for me to throw out old bank statements and other papers, and gifts of tchotchkes I never wanted. I took everything out of the closet, cleaned each shelf thoroughly, and added cotton balls soaked in vinegar. I'll replace the cotton balls regularly and if they don't keep the marauders at bay, then we'll have to hire an exterminator to figure out where they get in because I have no clue.
My closet is now gorgeous and spacious. I didn't take BEFORE pictures, but here's AFTER in its shining vinegarized glory:
Because I have accepted my fate as a woman of a certain age who no longer wears a heel higher than a quarter of an inch, many of my shoes can go, so now each shoe and slipper has its own cubby: