I've been on a bit of a purge-and-organize closet bender around the house lately -- what most people would probably consider "spring cleaning" except it's now September because I'm not a slave to your calendars, man.
This place has a legitimately amazing number of closets and built-in storage options, but of course the downsides to all that storage means you can simply wall up all your crap for years, out of sight and mind like the Tell-Tale Heart, until one day you open a door and BLAM. You are dead under a pile of regifting candles and suitcases and board games nobody likes.
So I've been waging the War on Crap one closet at a time. Lesser victories (aka ones I forgot to take a "before" photo of, like wow it's almost like I've lost the compulsion to share every minute of my day with the Internet or something) include the boys' bookshelves and a linen closet:
(Note that I separated and organized sheets by SIZE! And added corresponding labels to the shelves! And made SEVERAL attempts at properly folding the fitted sheets as per YouTube demo instructions before saying fuck this and balling them up into a semi-flat wad like I always do.)
More major victories included the master bedroom closet:
How does one let one's life spiral out of control like this? Three easy steps:
2) Rotate through several seasons without a full closet switchover thing, choosing instead of half-ass it and rummage around in storage containers until the whole thing becomes a terrible sweaters-shorts-jeans-bathing-suits hybrid of disorganization.
3) Uh. I don't really know the third step. Probably Trump-related anxiety. Why clean when you can lie in bed and stare at the ceiling while consumed with existential dread?
(Hedging the angles because I didn't take a day-of photo of Jason's half and GUESS WHAT THE HANGERS ARE ALREADY BACK, LIKE TRIBBLES.)
The basement toy closets:
This ended up being a multi-day job because I foolishly started it last Wednesday, completely forgetting that the kids didn't have school the rest of the week. Hauling out multiple bags of broken/busted/super-old toys was a bit more challenging with them hovering over my shoulder and insisting that yes, that Happy Meal toy from 2012 DOES bring them joy, now BACK OFF MY SHIT, MARIE.
(I know. I know. Just give me this one for like, a couple hours.)
And finally, this goddamn disaster hellscape:
When we first moved in, I designated the bottom two shelves of the small kitchen pantry to the kids' art supplies and Play-Doh. (I mean, why not? we have two pantries! the other one is a walk-in! we have the perfect spot for everything! la la la laaaaaa.)
Over time, of course, the hoard of precious scribbles and scattered crayons/coloring books/empty Play-Doh cans grew and grew and took over more and more space, until it was less "kids' creativity center" and more "lair of the demogorgon." Finally, the kids went back to school and I just kind of snapped.
"Villains!' I shrieked. 'Dissemble no more! I admit the deed! Tear up the planks! Here, here! It is the beating of his hideous heart!
Ta-DAAAA, motherfuckers. That is some organizing magic, right there. Look, I found an entire shelf just for NAPKINS.
So by my count, I only have like, five more closets to tackle. Plus the basement storage room which is probably the One Hoard To Rule Them All, but all that stuff is too heavy for mah poor delicate elbow right now. The shower remodel should wrap up today and then we're a go for hardwood floors in a couple weeks, also a back patio. And Ezra and Ike want to move back into a single room, which means we'll have an extra bedroom for...Legos probably? Oh! And we've swapped the living and the family rooms, relocated the TV and some of the furniture, AND I'm building a three-kid homework/computer station in what was formerly the living room.
Holy crap, this entire post makes me sound like I am at least eight months pregnant and nesting AF. I know I don't blog as often as I used to but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't forget to tell you something that important.
(I am most definitely not pregnant. Probably just my latest coping mechanism for all that "oh hey are we on the brink of nuclear war and the entire planet appears to be hellbent on our destruction while our president picks fights with sportsball? OH OKAY LET'S GO ORGANIZE A CLOSET AND ACHIEVE A SENSE OF CONTROL IN A WORLD FULL OF CHAOS" anxiety.)