Seeing your wardrobe in a makeshift closet all splayed out for your keen eye to see isn’t exactly the same thing as seeing them on the floor all in disarray. The closet gave up on the heavy hangers and poof. Just like that. Everything fell apart. I, ever feeling the carpenter (should’ve worn overalls to complete the look), attempted with agonizing futility to fix the blasted thing that only resulted to the bags on the top shelf to come crashing on the floor and my steel basket full of makeup to hang inches from my cheek. Hands full, I had the choice to let go of the bars that hold the closet together or get the basket. This time. feeling a Twister expert, twisted my other hand to slowly lower the basket to the floor. Hands quivering from the weight of the closet, my fingers gave up and an entire collection of makeup came spilling on the floor.
Frustrated, I let go of the closet and let it all tumble down. I followed after.
Imagine, me on the floor, with clothes and makeup and brushes and even broken eye shadow compacts with their powder on the floor. What a colorful mess.
I was so close to calling my dad but then I realized my phone’s dead and I sounded like a brat so I stopped myself and willed myself to cry because back in Cagayan this wouldn’t have happened and I wouldn’t have to worry about fixing the shit. I willed hard and my tear ducts failed on me. Efforts of trying to act like a brat were won over by efforts of trying to act sane. Nobody is going to fix it but me.
So I did.
I heaved the bars and placed them in their rightful holes. Oh, kinky. The clothes have to go first, then the bags, and I was up on my knees grabbing all the makeup I could find. My knees then were in shades of blue and pink. Cute. I twirled my magic broom and the room was clean. I thought I was done. Until I got the airconditioner from my dad the next day.
That huge thing was heavy and it took up so much space. Just it being on the floor makes it look obscene because it doesn’t belong there in the first place. What was I supposed to do with that huge lug? Turning it into a coffee table doesn’t cut it.
My dad called and ranted off a few instructions, “Dear you need to have a separate meter for the electricity, you need to board up your windows, you need to have someone install it, you need to find a decent company that cleans it regularly…” and so on and on he went until he stopped because he heard me sniffling.
I blew my nose. “I do not know what you are talking about. This is soo stressful to me. Last night my closet fell apart and now this. I cannot do this daddy. Its stressful. You have to come over to Cebu. Now.” To my horror, I bawled like a sick brat to my dad. Good thing he didn’t panic. I was so embarrassed to have him witness what a weakling his daughter was.
In a calm voice, he said, “This is what you will do. Ask the landlady for any carpenter to put up a brace for the a/c. You don’t need a separate meter anymore, whatever it is extra that will come up on your next month’s bill, you pay for it. For boarding your windows, it just needs acetate. And I’ll be giving you a number to call to in case you need to have it cleaned.”
My mind cleared. My tears went back to their ducts. “That’s all?”
He laughed. “I guess that means I don’t have to go there anymore.”
Don’t you just love my dad? Just like that, he made everything uncomplicated. Now for the part where I’m going to look for a carpenter.. stressful. Stressful. I’m having stressmarks. I need a man.