channeling my inner martha stewart

We only have 2 non-bedroom closets in this little apartment and one of them is a coat closet. Let me do the math for you. That leaves us ONE CLOSET for storage. We are a family of six. Some of you suburban readers began to hyperventilate as you read the above sentences. While my fellow New Yorkers just whispered, "suck it up Newbie" under their breath.

As we unpacked our moving boxes, this spare closet was quickly filled with random items that couldn't fit anywhere else. And because we basically threw things in there and slammed the door, every time I opened them I was afraid a bowling ball would fall out and hit me on the head. We don't even own a bowling ball, but the Flintstones was about the only cartoon I was allowed to watch as a child and it has made a permanent impression on my psyche.

I finally got around to organizing these closets this past weekend. Let me tell you, it was ONE EXCITING WEEKEND! Should I go out to a Broadway play or should I stay home and organize my closets? I chose the later.

Here's my finished project:



Glorious. And I totally channelled Martha Stewart and put labels on EVERYTHING. Even the shelves below Rod's inbox. I even tried to put them on really straight, so she'd be proud.



I know. I might need a new creative outlet.

Anyway, I took about 20 pictures of the closet because I was just so darn proud of myself. And because I wanted to forget that this is waiting for me in a storage unit in the Bronx. Even though we sold almost all our belongings when we moved here, we did not get rid of enough.



I don't even know what's in there and to be honest, I don't really care. I would like to light a match to it and never think about it again. But for now, I'll keep flipping through my pictures on iphoto of my beautiful, organized closet.

let us pause for a moment of silence

Dear extra capacity washer & dryer,

I took you for granted for so many years.
You, who were always ready to wash 20 towels at a time.
You, who could wash a comforter after the dog threw up.
You, who were available to me 24 hours a day.
You, with your sexy quick cycle allowing me to wash a load in 20 minutes.
Your gentle hum was music to my ears.

I feel I should be the one to tell you that you will soon be replaced by a small stackable. Or gasp a laundromat. Please don't take it personally. I would take you on this journey with me if I could, but NYC has something against a thing called space in their apartments.

I will never forget you.

Love,
Michelle and her family of six

P.S. I'm sorry I blamed you for all those lost socks. I'm sure it was totally my fault. XOXO