Housekeeping

Would editing our foul weather gear bring down the wrath of the weather gods?

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***

I made a casual remark to my husband this morning about putting away the approximately seven hundred thirty-nine pairs of snow boots (there are two of us) in the back hall, since the snow season is theoretically over. He gave me a look and said, “You jinxed us.”

And guess what? It’s supposed to snow tomorrow. Probably not a lot. And probably not for long. But now I think I will not just put the boots away tonight, but in a very difficult to reach spot. Like in a carton at the top of the closet or something. That should guarantee a snow day and a cozy fire in the morning.

But the situation did get me to thinking about the crazy array of coats we have, too. The problem is that in our climate we have raincoats for warm weather; for coolish weather; and for just above freezing weather. We have liners for some of the raincoats to make them more adaptable. We have summer-jaunts-at-sea-to-look-at-icebergs lined rubber raincoats from our trip to Newfoundland, which have come in very handy more than once. We have light jackets for the lake watching fireworks or the stars. We have semi-warm coats for autumn wine tastings, and other semi-warm coats for traipsing through the woods kicking leaves. We have long warm coats for when you’re walking the dogs in November, and short warm coats for when you’re driving. We both have dressy raincoats for when we’re going somewhere important and need to look respectable, which are different from the dog-walking coats when we couldn’t care less how we look—which, to be honest, is most of the time—and dressy warm coats for the same reason. Then we have the snow-blowing coats (which because of the exhaust fumes can be worn for nothing else) and the polar vortex coats. Each variation has its own further variations: Hood? No hood? Removable fur trim? Bulky sweater fit? Close-fitting tee fit? Each of these individual coats and jackets also has an array of hats; gloves; mittens; scarves, and, for some situations, balaclavas, neck wraps, and glove liners. I haven’t even mentioned the different degrees of down fill, or the down vests, or the most recent innovation for transitional weather: the down sweater.

I hasten to point out that having these choices is a necessity. The temperatures can shift sixty degrees in one afternoon, and the seasonal variations can range from -25F to 100F. There was one point in January this year when it was so cold I wore a coat under a coat when I was walking the dogs.

The thing is, our closet stuffers are not unique to our household, but a feature of every Wisconsin home. And I haven’t even gotten to ice fishing, snowmobiling and ski gear. Or the gear for two dogs: coats, harnesses, soft cones, blaze orange vests, leashes, collars, and what have you. Not to mention a whole drawer of old beach towels for drying off wet dog heads, tummies and toes.

We have two normal-sized single closets in our back hall, and one really small one in our front hall, and I want to use the one in the front hall as a broom closet, because I don’t have one of those, and I’m tired of going into the basement to get the vacuum, or worse, leaving it in a dining room corner until company comes. But I really don’t think it would be wise to get rid of the weather gear. I don’t quite know what the jinx would look like, but it probably would be a lulu.

And now for your gratuitous dog photo:

Eli is always out front on our morning walks. Auggie has different ideas. He has another game, in which he lags behind and waits for me to notice. My job is to turn around and say “GO!” That’s what’s happening in the video below.