all the pretty boxes

This past week my manic quilting was replaced by manic decluttering.

Sigh.

As the end of the Covid isolation is nearing, as is our flight to Spokane (69 days), I can’t wait to enjoy a campfire by the lake.  I want to bundle up in my warmest jacket and–rain or shine–collect driftwood and look for arrowheads on the beach.  I want to perch on my favorite log and drink coffee.  I want to see an eagle.

But for now?  My cure for stress has always been buying plastic containers and putting stuff inside of them.  A pandemic has not changed that.

Of course I had to sneak the new plastic purchases past Banjo Man, who thankfully was on the phone when I returned from Home Depot having bought all six boxes on the shelf (and wished there were more).

A decade of “Buying Pretty Boxes At Home Goods” has ended.

After several days of sorting and organizing, here’s the result:

The remaining white boxes on the top left hold my vintage button collections.  I ran out of (a) energy and (b) plastic storage boxes.  Maybe next winter…

Here’s a bag filled with three pretty boxes of sewing notions and fun stuff for Harley Chick’s craft-minded granddaughter.

I love my label maker.   Can you tell?

And now I sit here with my second cup of coffee, listening to Tom Waites (The Early Years, Vol. 2) and wondering what I can throw away or repackage next.

Banjo Man had better watch out.

 

 

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