On getting dressed when all your clothing live in boxes

I made the relocation. It was a long time coming, predestined before the move back home, and now the miles have been traversed and I am here! I’ve arrived! The great Nixodus has occurred!

And while it’s a breath of sweet, sweet fresh air, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m living out of boxes. My wardrobe is but a decaying corpse, bloating within its mobile coffin, ready to spill forth its guts and tarnish the ground with loose skirts, bras and jackets. I can’t keep it contained, this string of intestines, and what arrived as an organized body of clothing has only manifested into a crime scene.

Which brings to hand the arduous task of getting dressed when your closet is a metaphoric cadaver.

Here’s what I learned:
1) Organize your suitcases beforehand. I’ve got business in one, party in the other, and I simply turn to the appropriate bag when tackling the morning ritual.

2). Have a separate bag for dirty laundry. Eff the idea of errant, dirty socks (panties) schmoozing with your fresh and so clean linens. No. Get a laundry bag, fool.

3). Hanging wrinkled clothes in a steaming bathroom is bullshit. You gotta do some old-fashioned ironing or pick up some spray-on wrinkle relaxer. You may be living out of a suitcase but you really don’t need to look like it.

4). And relax. You just moved to a new city! What an adventure. Now stop fretting, put some pants on and drink a mimosa (bottomless), please.

And now here are some lovely snaps of my first week in San Francisco.