Isabel's latest triumph

Last night, Boy and I were watching TV in the living room when we heard a thunderous crash on the other side of the house.

Jim was at work, so he could not be responsible. Boy's eyes widened, and as I stood up to investigate, he said, "No, wait, take the baseball bat." Um, did anyone know where the baseball bat is? No? So I investigated anyway.

Boy's room was... well, it wasn't any more catastrophic than the last time I dared to look. If anyone knows how to get a teenage boy to clean his room, do let me know. Our room was substantially un-disastered, the bathroom was in its usual mild disarray....

Then I opened the closet.

The closet grid system had partially collapsed, dumping all my stuff and half my clothes on the floor. (Jim's side was totally fine. Naturally. Isabel likes him.) 

Later investigation showed that a small fishhook-shaped connector had snapped. Jim found a reasonable replacement at Home Depot, and conducted the repairs this afternoon because that's what people do on a national holiday, with zip ties to strengthen it against a reoccurrence.

But first, he had to empty the entire closet. There is only one in the house - well, two, if you count the coat closet under the stairs. Boy doesn't have a closet, so he has a wardrobe with drawers and hanging space that he has only partially destroyed. Jim and I share the only actual closet, which is long and narrow and has the wire shelving to allow us to store everything from towels to pillows to our clothes. 

That's what is now vomited across our bedroom.

I hate clothes. So why do I have so many?

I had entirely forgotten the closet project while I worked up in my office all day. I came downstairs to make dinner (basil cream chicken with spinach noodles tossed with browned butter and mizithra) and saw the bedroom.

ME: Aiiiieeeee!

JIM: Yeah.

ME: I forgot. 

JIM: We have to sort all this tonight.

ME: No. I don't wanna.

JIM: We have to if we ever want to sleep in here again.

ME: Let's not. We can just close the door and pretend this room doesn't exist.

JIM: Then where do we sleep?

ME: I've got a cot up in my office, I'm good.

JIM: Great, what about me?

ME: You can sleep on the couch - no, kick Boy out of his room. You get his bed.

BOY: How about no?

Isabel hates me. My bridesmaid Sara even brought me an awesome little charm for a wedding gift to help ward off the ghost so that she wouldn't misbehave. It vanished almost immediately. I'm not kidding. Cannot find it anywhere. During and immediately following the wedding, the coat closet rod snapped in half (solid wood), the handrail ripped out of the office stairwell, the coffeepot lid broke, the bed frame collapsed (okay, that was Boy)....

And as I'm typing this, the keyboard has vanished from my iPad screen. I can still type, but the letter keys do not appear. It has taken me ten minutes to type this paragraph. Not. Kidding.

Okay, Isabel, I get the hint! I'll stop complaining about you on my blog and go put my closet back together!