Storage Obsession

I was such a disorganized child and teen, so I have always been drawn to organizational tools, stores, and anything that could vaguely pull myself into an organized state.  I was able to organize in my head, and was very organized when it came to work, but my personal life was a different story.  However, after managing stock rooms in and after college, I have become OBSESSED with organizing and reorganizing… everything.  I moved back to Northern Virginia after I finished school and started getting rid of everything excessive.  Okay, I tried to get rid of everything excessive.  I was a complete pack rat before college and I had accumulated a lot of stuff. Not to mention my clothing collection.

Over the last couple of years, I have started to truly pare down and the only clutter I still struggle with is paper clutter.  That being said, our new apartment is incredibly close to a Container Store. So when I moved the bookcase from our living room into my bedroom knit-nook-in-progress, I decided I needed new bins to store the yarn on the bookcase.  Using the ultra-convenient Click & Pickup, I purchased these new bins for stash storage. Now, I’m thinking it was maybe too convenient.  I ended up purchasing many more bins than I have yarn to store.

The average person without a fiber addiction might think to find another use, let’s face it, I could store sweaters in the nice black, stackable bins.  Not me.  Ever since purchasing them, bringing them home and setting everything up, only to find that the three stacking bins next to the bookcase are still empty, I have a ridiculous urge to buy enough yarn to fill these bins.  Part of me is very happy that I am on a self-imposed yarn diet for the first 6 months of the year, even though this clearly proves that I don’t have a large stash.  The other part of me is slowly going crazy.  I have avoided going to my local yarn shop, which has become a favorite weekend-outing for M, but online shops are a different story.  Daily, I find myself perusing Etsy and looking up local(ish) hand-dyers, thinking to myself, I am supporting the local economy. So far, these virtual trips though aisles of beautifully dyed fiber and handspun have ended with me closing my laptop in a panic and running into another room. But I’m starting to wonder: How long can I resist?

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