My mother was a neat freak. I’ve written about it a few times. Her idea of a fun afternoon was to organize her drawers. Not that they needed it. They were always perfect. Perfect, little stacks of whatever. Unmentionables. Nighties. Sweaters. Scarves. Hosiery. Socks. Handkerchiefs. Jewelry. Make up. Whatever.
In fact, when it comes to ‘order‘, you’d never know my mother and I were even related. We were total opposites.
It would drive her nuts. Whenever she’d come to visit me here, in Toronto, she always tried to put closets on our agenda of things to do. If we woke up and it was raining, or freezing cold or snowing she’d say (beg), hopefully: “Fransi, this would be a perfect day to do your closets. I’m here, I can help you. We’ll get it done really quickly if Continue reading