When Dan and I first moved into our condo, we spent countless days at Target. Wandering the Home section aisle, I found all sorts of stuff we did not even know we needed. Salt and pepper shakers. A dust buster. Dish drying rack. Dan took these items in stride, pushing our two red carts teeming with items throughout the store. However, a particular type of item sends Dan over the edge. When I start to approach this certain section, Dan halts his cart and refuses to move any further.
The Organizing Aisle.
Ah, my favorite. Just the thought of rows and rows of plastic bins with varying shapes, sizes, and colors fills my Domestic Goddess-wanna-be heart with joy. I am of the mind that everything has a place and everything goes in that place.
On our most recent trip to Target this weekend to purchase last-minute Christmas gifts, I secretly had my mind set on a new storage bin – a wrapping paper storage box! How delightfully clever! This is a must-have item.
Last year, I think I ended up having to toss out our left-over paper because it got smooshed between my yoga mat, large exercise ball, and various Dan-related computer equipment.
But not this year. This year we would be different. We will incorporate a new storage implement into our lives.
I slyly altered our route through Target to ensure we passed by My Favorite Aisle. As we approached, I saw it. It was perfect. Just the right size with a special compartment on top for holding miscellaneous wrapping items like tape, ribbons, and bows. I knew Dan would not want to go for it, so I tried to distract him by chatting away and casually asking him to stop the cart and put that plastic bin inside. He obliged?but then he saw my evil organization plan and started to back peddle.
“Honey, this is so…specialized. Do we really need this?”
Aghast at his attempt to dissuade me, I assured him this was a needed item.
He tried to steer me towards other boxes, plain long ones, but I was not having it. This is the perfect box, perfect for paper.
Well, I won that battle. And, while admiring my handiwork as I put our rolls of wrapping paper into the bin, I realized that I am approaching a higher state.
I have reached Storage Box nirvana.
Careful so Dan would not notice, I took an inventory of the marvelous storage boxes I own:
- Bundt Cake Travel Case
- Cupcake Travel Case (Thanks to Marie, who knows me so well and purchased this fantastic gizmo for my birthday.)
- Caboodle for lotions/potions/make up (As a side note, Dan and I determined that this exact silver Caboodle is used on the show Miami: CSI. The CSI people carry these exact Caboodles to their crime scenes to investigate. I laugh every time I see it because mine is filled with mascaras and Neutrogena products.)
- Three large blue tubs for various craft/needlepoint/yarn items
- Wilton Carrying Case for my baking items, e.g. tips, bags, icing dyes, etc…
- Three Martha Stewart canisters for keeping powdered sugar, granulated sugar, and flour
- Various iPod cases
- Three large clear plastic tubs for my purse collection
- Two plastic carts on wheels with drawers for holding various items such as my blow dryers, straightening iron, stationary, gloves, hats, etc…
- Inside the linen closet, I have several different types of wicker baskets that hold shampoo, soap, medicine, towels, etc…
I think this is a genetic issue. Even as a child, I liked organizing and kept a very clean room. I even card cataloged my books. At work, I have the neatest cube in the office, and my trusty companion, the Brother P Touch label maker keeps papers in the right place. The Brother P Touch is so notorious that my supervisor and I like to refer to it by his proper name, Brother P Touch, and enjoy labeling all sorts of items we give to each other.
So, while others may share Dan’s general feelings of apathy towards The Organization Aisle and Storage Boxes, I simply cannot give them up. Storage boxes are exact, which is why I love them. I like things exact. I work in an exact-type of job (here at the Budget Office, we generally snuff anything not exact). I love baking, which requires exact measurements. And I like to put things were they exactly belong.
So while Dan will still cringe whenever I walk through our front door with a Target bag in hand and a gleeful smile, I cannot help it.
Now excuse me, my Brother P Touch is calling my name