I spent way too much money at the Container Store, today. What could I possibly require at the Container Store that would consume almost $150 of my hard-earned money? you may ask.
Obviously, you have never been to the Container Store.
I try to keep most of my Architectural Record magazines, as well as the Texas Architect magazines I receive, courtesy of my American Institute of Architects Associate-level membership, and the fact that I've collected several months' worth of these during my tenure as resident unemployed offspring meant that I absolutely HAD to buy more grey linen-covered magazine files.
They are a necessity.
I also realized that my nice leather purses - the small ones, anyways - needed some form of storage container that wouldn't scratch their nice leather, but would keep the dust off. So I bought a big cloth box with a collapsible frame. (The large leather purses typically come with their own flannel storage bag, courtesy of the manufacturer).
It was a necessity.
I have a lovely little Elfa trolley that I used to keep my printer in and my scanner on, and its top drawer helf scissors and tape. I bought 3 shallow drawers to replace the existing deep drawer, which will no doubt end up holding linens or something. Where will my printer and scanner go? The scanner can still sit on top of the trolley, and the printer - a new shiny white one that's far more attractive than its dull grey predecessor - will sit on a bookshelf or on my desk. The trolley is lovely because it tucks neatly under my skirted desk and out of view.
The drawers were necessities, as well.
And I bought a grey linen binder in which to store warranty information, because it matches the grey linen binder that stores computer program CDs and the hard drive backup CDs I make every so often.
The grey linen binder was obviously also a necessity.
Why, you now ask, are all these things necessities? Why couldn't I just pile my purses on a shelf like other women? Why couldn't I buy a day-glo orange plastic binder that costs half as much at Target? Why couldn't I have just stashed my art supplies in a hideous plastic trolley, left exposed to the eyes of all?
Because, I am obsessive compulsive about my living environment, and if my living environment is not just so, I'm unhappy. As in, I will be stressed because there are too many random magazines stacked at the end of the bookshelf unhappy. As in, I will sit in my living room and cry because I have nowhere to stow my art supplies when I'm not using them unhappy.
In my room at my parents' house, things are piled in boxes, clothes hang haphazardly - but hangered - on the backs of doors, and books and binders are piled sky-high on my drawing table. Does it bother me? You betcha! But I've coped with it because I knew it was just temporary, and that it would change when I moved. In my own home, however, there is no feeling of this is just temporary and it will all be neater and straightened up soon.
It's a good thing I'm not more obsessive-compulsive than I am. If I was, I would probably require therapy.