The trouble with living in a share house is that usually, your whole life has to fit into one room. And if you want some space, or want to sleep in anything resembling a bedroom, it involves hiding a lot of stuff, wherever you can.
The top shelf of my wardrobe has my pyjama collection — Garfield, Elmo, floral, Cookie Monster, spots. Waffle leggings, flannelette, cotton sateen. All the same brand. I wear them to bed but also around the house. Then I can be comfortable and cute at the same time. I used to work in the head office of a pyjama company, providing customer service for their mail order catalogue and online store. I’d often be trying pyjamas on over my clothes while trying not to get tangled in the cord of my headset. First-hand experience was the best way to give customers advice over the phone about sizing and fit. Like all my jobs before teaching, I did it purely to pay the bills. Think I survived so long in that job because I liked the product. And it wasn’t an ordinary office space. The floor was covered in hot pink carpet and the head of the company used to bring his two little dogs into work.
Then there’s a stack of folded jeans, a bag of beanies and gloves and scarves. All necessities in Melbourne. Hanging up are my work clothes. Haven’t needed those for nearly two years. Not after moving to online teaching. At the far end of the wardrobe are a collection of winter jackets and, in plastic suit bags — dresses. Wedding dresses. Not bridal gowns, just dresses I’ve worn to everyone else’s weddings. I haven’t had the chance to be a bride yet. Not even a bridesmaid. But I don’t mind. I still like the opportunity to dress up. Weddings are the only time I ever wear heels. Or foundation — mainly to cover up the red cheeks I get after a couple of champagnes. And weddings are one of the few occasions I cry in public. But they’re happy tears.
A bit over a year ago, when I started working from home and spent nearly all day and night in my bedroom, I bought a chest of drawers, separate to the wardrobe, which fits a lot of my clothes. Now my wardrobe has more space for everything else you might normally store in the kitchen or laundry or bathroom or a study.
My toiletries are in my wardrobe — on a little table. Can’t keep toiletries in the bathroom. Not enough storage space. And nothing more annoying than wanting to brush your teeth when your housemate is in the shared bathroom. Then there’s the housemate using your shampoo and conditioner situation…
On the floor of my wardrobe are three plastic storage boxes. One is my filing cabinet, another is filled with paints and crayons and paintbrushes. Another holds stationary — books and a pencil case with everything from connectable markers to protractors. On the top shelf of my wardrobe are more boxes. One for wrapping paper and ribbons, another for electrical cords and chargers. Another for my sewing kit, shoe polish, jewellery cleaner and lint remover. I have more boxes, with more things, under my bed.
There’s also a hessian bag at the bottom of my wardrobe. It’s full of my teaching materials which I used every day when I taught face-to-face. At least thirty Ziplock bags, each containing cut up discussion or activity cards which I personally cut with a paper guillotine, boardgames which I constructed by sticking pieces of paper onto A3 pieces of coloured card. Bits and pieces for activities — dice, a bell, fly swats. Nine years of lesson preparation and creation are in that bag. Not sure if I’ll ever need its contents again, but like a lot of things in my life, I’ll hold onto it, just in case.
