I’m dealing with a major issue, as the saying goes, and I am reaching out for comfort from my loyal readers.

This is a hideous problem that I’ve endured for many a year but have not been able to share with the public due to the shame of it all.

Yes, I’ve suffered silently, as I oft do, (stop that hysterical laughing as it's distracting me), but am now ready to open up and unleash my innermost thoughts, feelings and emotions pertaining to this most pressing matter that has infested my household for far too long. Whew, that was a keyboard full huh?

For those who might be able to relate to the following mystery, I'm thinking maybe a support group of sorts might be in order when all is said and done.

Before I bare my soul, I have to state that this column is not solely directed toward the teens in my life, as it also has to do with a wide range of human beings.

Well, here goes. I shall try to remain brave and just spit out. Wish me luck.

(Sound of throat clearing...) No matter how hard I try, I cannot entice people into using the coat tree, wardrobe closet or any other cloak receiving apparatus located within a five foot radius of the front door region.

The fear of actually utilizing the various coat hanging locations has reached epidemic levels and is spreading, like some sort of anti-hanger plague, swiftly through the land. It appears to be triggered by the act of shuffling over the threshold.

I’ve tried absolutely every technique I could muster to rectify this horrendous happening in the home.

I stripped the coat tree naked and yet, no one took the bait. (Plus, I had one embarrassed coat tree on my hands.)

After humiliating said tree by removing all excess coats, 6 or 7 of its appendages were just perched, waiting in vain for cozy outerwear to come to rest gently, yet effectively, on one of the bare limbs—and no one noticed. Not one person took note of the longing plea and wishful glance of the the lonely, vacant coat tree.

I installed those over-the-door hanging gadgets near the entryway and individuals just strolled by them, dropping coats on recliners and couches as they skipped merrily along.

The most glaring example of a being suffering from the above-mentioned anti-hanger plague, took place a few days. A grown woman, who should have known better, literally placed her humongous winter coat on the wooden chair that is located DIRECTLY in front of the now infamous tree of coats.

I kid you not when I tell you that this chair’s home is in such close proximity to the tree that jackets, and the like, brush the back of it frequently. Stray sleeves oft come to rest on the wooden seat yet, this nameless, faceless person just had to put her garment on that chair, rather than reaching it up 2 feet, mind you, to one of the loving and waiting-with-open-arms, tree limbs.

I ask you, my darling scholars of this insane column, do you too encounter this problem in your living quarters? Can anyone relate to the above-mentioned craziness? Is a support group forming as we speak? Will I choke the next person, (by using a scarf that has come to lounge on the davenport), who refuses to hang his or her coat in a proper manner? Oops, I showed my inner rage with that last question by mistake, of course. Pardon me.

These days, when guests come a calling, I find myself running on auto-pilot. I wait until they get settled in, and I then move, in a zombie-like fashion, in the direction of the coat receptacle. As my eyes glaze over from the repetitive nature of my journey, I scoop up coats galore, which have been carelessly flopped onto couches, recliners, hard chairs, soft chairs, the floor, stray dogs and anything else that stood still long enough, and I lovingly hook them all to the eagerly awaiting branches.

Everything is fair game when it comes to holding coats in this blasted house. Everything, that is, except for the ACTUAL *&%$# 17 coat organizers placed strategically here and there for all to enjoy. I have now suspended these in so many locations, that there is no way to miss one. What is wrong with society? Hold me!

OK, I'm done. I'm so relieved now since I shared the saga of the anti-hanger plague with all of you. Please let me know if you, too, have people in your lives who suffer from this debilitating disorder. Remember, I'm here for you, as they say in soap operas.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to unload 23 jackets from atop the neighbor kid who happened by earlier.