By Sue Murphy
Here is the secret to college football success: For every all-star running back you sign, you must sign a backup back in case all-star number one gets injured or is arrested on a weapons charge in an after-hours nightclub. This is called having depth.
The same is true of running a household. You only have to run out of propane one time during a Fourth of July barbecue before you learn that you must always, always keep a backup tank in reserve. By the same token, I keep a backup hairdryer because there is no substitute when your hair is drenched and you have to be out the door, fully coiffed, in half an hour.
I’m big on backups. My pantry is lined with duplicate cans of tomato soup and peaches and baked beans. My half empty boxes of rice and noodles sit in front of full, unopened clones and, along the baseboard, the cases of Harold’s Diet Coke are stacked three deep.
The laundry room cabinet holds two jugs of laundry soap, two bottles of fabric softener, two stain-fighting pens. I have two bottles of dish soap, two boxes of dishwasher detergent and two of those sponges that have a scrubber on one side.
My daughters lovingly (?) refer to my bathroom supply shelves as the Mom Closet. They snicker at my double rows of bath soap and tissues and toilet paper but, when they visit, they help themselves just the same.
I have depth in the Mom Closet, but in my clothes closet, not so much. If my little black dress (really not all that little) suffers an injury and has to be pulled from the roster, I’ll be in trouble. I’ve never been one of those magic people who have continual off-the-rack success. For me, clothes shopping is a lot like birding. I cannot head out into the retail wilderness secure that I’m going to come across an indigo bunting. I just have to keep my eyes open and my credit card ready in case one appears.
My buntings have come so few and far between that when I have a successful sighting, I immediately buy two. They may be a different color, they may not. I don’t mind being boring. (Didn’t she wear that last time?) I just want things to fit. Taking things up and taking things in has grown tiresome and I’ve tossed out too many things that I bought with an “it’ll do” shrug.
Right now, I have good depth in the khaki arena. In fact, the weaker performers may have to be cut from the team. I’m OK with my black slacks and low impact sneakers – one in play and one on the bench. I even have two identical bathing suits purchased on one golden day a few years back when some rogue designer (fired immediately afterward) put out a suit that did not make me cringe. I should have bought three.
I’m short on dresses. I wish I had more skirts – not the short kind, more kinda long. Maybe I’ll find them. Maybe I won’t. So if you see me out in the same pair of black slacks and low-vol knit top that I wore the time before, know that I am doing the best I can. I’m shallow in that area, but I’m looking to go deep.
The world is full of wonderful things, but some of them are only wonderful for somebody else. My advice? Know who you are, know what you want, and when you find it, buy two. Deep thoughts.
