One would think that I’d seen enough boxes to last a lifetime, with 3 moves in 2 years under my belt. But, no, I entered the most heavenly store tonight after dinner. Bryan’s dad is visiting and he treated us to dinner at a Mexican restaurant in a shopping center which includes The Container Store.
Now, it somewhat resembles an Organized Living store, of which there used to be one at the Summit in Bham but it went out of business years ago (perhaps because there aren’t many truly fellow nerds still in existence). Nevertheless, I entered the store in awe. To the casual onlooker, I might have looked like a kid in a candy store or even a toddler at Disney World (or, perhaps more likely, just deranged).
There were boxes for shoes, boxes for photos, boxes for hats (which unfailingly make me want a hat, just so I could keep it in a hat box). And there were boxes for the boxes to go in. But it wasn’t just the boxes that made the store. There were so many ways to organize anything and everything you could possibly imagine. Believe me, I tried. As I lazily walked down each aisle, I imagined all of the “completely practical” uses for everything I saw, even the miniature display cases, which apparently are made for signed golf balls or similar collectibles (of which I have none, but what does that really matter?).
And, while Boy Genius said it was the most boring store he’d ever been in, The Girl stayed right with me, drinking in the trays and folders and baskets and shelves and shoe racks and display cases and on and on and on.
Of course, I didn’t have to travel far to return to reality; just a few steps to the van, where movies are thrown around, stale cheerios are in various crevices and old drink cups, toys and rocks (“but they’re for my collection, mom”) adorn the back seat, and I’m back to a world where everything may have a place but I have no idea where it is.