Mess causes me stress. (Ironically, this was my nickname growing up). Scotty's closet, that odd-shaped room off of the family room, has slowly morphed from a cute kid's area into a trigger for a panic attack for me. I've taken to simply closing both doors in order to pretend the mess is not there.
No more, friends. I am taking control of this giant stuffed-animal-Leggo-graveyard-home-to-Brian's-countless-bottles-of-Gatorade dump.
It was this:
I am beyond excited about this project. The good people at The Container Store are helping to make my vision a reality, and it should be glorious. I love organization so much that if forced to use, I think I would pick a closet re-design over jewelry. Really. What can I say? I put the "fun" in "functionality."