Well, friends, hot off the trail of my big email deletion, I caught the spring fever bug. I thought I had plenty of antibodies to ward it off, but somehow I tapped into a deep reserve of willingness. Willingness to face whatever fears, griefs or vermin were lurking underneath my pile of maternity clothes or in the dark recesses of my cupboards. It’s a process, and now I am in over my head.
I started with the kitchen.
Naturally, I first turned to my archive of Oprah Magazines and found an article where Iron Chef Cat Cora organized a kitchen. When I saw the pictures, I knew what I needed to do.
Get my ass to The Container Store of course. What my home was missing were those round see-through canisters to put all of our carbs in. Suddenly, I couldn’t bear to see all those boxes of cereal and crackers and pasta. Why should I have to look at that packaging?
My eyes are burning!
Once at The Container Store I discovered the approximately 1600 square feet devoted to organizing your kitchen. They have trays and shelves and racks and stuff I don’t know the name of– all designed to help people who want shed their cluttery, white trash roots. My cart was brimming with do0-dads to spiff me up. In fact, I had to take my children out of the cart so I could fit my stuff in.
Several hundeys later, I walked out of there with the sole thought: Damn, spring cleaning is expensive.
If The Container Store is publicly traded, I am going to buy some stock every spring.
When we got home, I played a fun game with the kids: The Pour Game. Each one of them got a container and a box of starchy goodness and they had to fill the container one handful at a time until it was full. Hours of family fun. We contained our Pirates Booty, Goldfish, Veggie Sticks– if it comes in a box or a bag, those morsels are no longer free floating behind layers of cardboard. They’re now in an airtight, brand-spanking new containers (that, come to think of it, I probably should have washed first. Oops.).
Now, I am dying to see how The Container Store’s goodies can help me with my closets, but I have to wait for my next paycheck to tackle that side of the store.
I sure hope my new-found love of see-through, airtight containers is not fleeting, but just in case, I left the price tags on and am saving my receipt.
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PS: If the Huffington Post had a section on Spring Cleaning, I would pitch this piece, but they don’t. They tend to favor articles about parenting, not those which thematically could best be described as Wah Wah Poor Me, Organizing My Snacks Was Expensive. If you care to click over and see an article I wrote about how I thought I would (should?) fall madly in love with both of my children the moment they were born (but didn’t), click here.