While reading WorkingMom's most recent post, I too realized that I'd love to live in a catalog -- I'm not overly picky about which one. Just somewhere where everything has a place. I could even be happy in a catalog form the Container Store.
I want to be organized, I can see in my head. But, alas, like the unpainted masterpieces, there is a missing connection between my head and reality.
I suspect, but can not prove, that the missing connection is money. Okay, I could prove it, if I had the money, but since it is unlikely that I will, in the near future have the money, my theory will have to remain just that.
I am quite good at creating space and finding space and using space. I have fully grasped the concept of using vertical space. I love shelves. I am completely happy with wire shelving (which you'd think is inexpensive - and relative to the more decorative options, it is - but even it adds up quickly) Cool a hyphen within a parenthesis, more on that in a later post, at least in the less public places of my house - laundry room, closets, garage. I just need more of them.
But I would probably also need a family as keen to be organized as I am. All the bedrooms have plenty of closet space - I designed them that way. I have even provided them with as much shelving as we could possibly fit in. And still there are toys all over the floors. I give them buckets for each type of toy (barbies in their own box, dinosaurs in another, ponies in yet another, you get the idea) and still there are toys on the floors.
The Husband went to considerable lengths to find the perfect bedside table when we moved into the new house so that he would be able to adequately house the things he must have within an arms reach of the bed - every CD he owns, a novel or two, a couple of puzzle books, things he will only need once a month, if that often, but would rather die than have to walk downstairs to find. (Love ya lots Husband, but you know how I feel about your corner). And then he has moved the hope chest to prevent I, the wee one with sticky fingers and more curiosity than George, from getting at his stuff (a move I agree with in theory because it keeps me from having to constantly pull her out of a newly found treasure of choking hazards), but which created what the Husband called a "box to put all things in!" Egads!
So I can understand his need to keep his things close (as much as it drives me batty) because the next most logically place for him to keep these things (if he were willing to let them be on acompletely different level of the house - which I'm not really sure he'd agree to) would be in the basement computer area which houses a lot of things, mostly in slightly organized piles that only I understand, which I'd gladly organize, but as of yet as not had the benefit of properly arranged vertical storage.
If Only I Had More Shelves!