A woman's closet is a deep ocean of secrets

Alternate title: Nearer my closet to thee

You know when you start spending loads of time somewhere that you don't live? You need stuff. You need clothes to wear to work, clothes to run in, clothes to hang out in.

At a point, it becomes ridiculous to keep hauling one clean outfit in one dirty outfit out. It's an endless and cumbersome process. Right?

So you are given a drawer. Your own drawer! This initially seems drastic. But practical.

And then quickly not quite enough. See, I started with one drawer, and immediately filled it. It's winter. Clothes like fleece and sweaters take up a lot of room, you know?

To mitigate the piling of clothing, which maybe I am very prone to, I was given a second drawer. Which suddenly and inexplicably was packed to the brim. I didn't make any great display of cramming things in to close the drawer, or pulling everything out when I wanted to find something shoved at the back. But, well, it's hard to live out of two drawers. And a bit of closet.

The cramming of the drawers, however, did not escape attention. "You have a lot of clothes, don't you?"

Heh. Bat eyelashes.

"I have a few. Why?"

"It's just dawning on me that this is the tip of the iceberg."

I consider assuaging his fears by protesting, or feigning innocence or surprise that he'd think that. But really, where does lying ever get you?

So I just agree. "Yeah. That's a good way to put it."

He starts with an explanation of icebergs, how what you see on the surface can be only 10 percent of what's really there. But I already know about this.

And so I say, with no allusion to Rose and Jack, "Oh, yes. This current situation? Is like the Titanic."

PS I know the drawings look like they were done by a three year old on crack. But that's just me trying to draw in Photoshop.