Sometimes the clutter in our house gets to us. Our house is plenty big for the three of us, but the forces of entropy are both relentless and sneaky, so the equilibrium organizational level of our house tends to a value somewhere between disordered and pathologically chaotic.
Some of the people reading this entry who have been to my house and successfully emerged without getting a child's toy lodged in their sphincter might dispute how I've described the household clutter, but I must remind those people that they have not spent time in The Crap Room(s). You see, we've actually got a room (or two) that isn't used for day-to-day activity and thus becomes the place where stuff accumulates. Before guests enter my house, I make sure to "disappear" all non-essential items into The Crap Room(s) and that's where those items stay until my wife finds them years later. (In fact, just last week Hank found an old Winter Present Tree Day gift that I intended to give her 2 years ago, but apparently hid it too well in the weeks before the big day)
Now, when I get the itch to tidy (and I'm more likely to get jock itch than tidy itch), it's generally because I can no longer safely access parts of the house that I value, like the couch or the toilet. So, I clean up by removing the bad things (pokey toys, toe-stubby books on the floor, flammable towers of this-n-that) and disappearing them into The Crap Room(s). Once the bad things are gone, the house is tidy again!
My wife, Hank, applies a different algorithm to tidying. She prefers to approach the mess holistically. She will spend a good deal of time thinking and will come to some conclusion like "Every bookcase needs to be in a different room!" or "Daisy needs a bed with drawers!" and then she'll spend a couple of hours on Step Alpha-1-A of the Master Plan which invariably involves taking every item off of every shelf in the house and putting them on the floor. Often this step consumes all the time we have to dedicate to cleaning, and I then shortcut steps Alpha-1-B through Zeta-Infinity-Z by fork-lifting the new mess into The Crap Room(s). Voila!
You see, Hank suffers from the delusion that the reason we have clutter is because we don't have enough boxes, shelves, and drawers to put stuff in. What she fails to realize is that her utopia, a sort of organizational nirvana where every physical item in the house has a cozy home sorted by function and aesthetics, would be a completely temporary condition. It would last as long as it would take me or Daisy to actually use one of these stored items and then leave it laying around on the nearest surface.
I'm just not motivated to find or remember which box we use to store our extra boxes. The Crap Room(s) used to always be the answer. It was where the old computer, exercise ball, extra couch, my favorite dust bunny, That Box I've Had Since College all lived. Now, instead of one all-encompassing answer for where things should live, there are millions of answers.
Anyway, I'm just bitching here because I'm losing this battle. Hank is fully entrenched in the current reorganization and it's all I can do to not be either given away to Goodwill or stuffed into a spiffy wicker box from the Container Store myself. I just wish it to be known that I mourn for The Crap Room(s).