The day after we returned from Mexico, our TV blew up. It was the icing on my perfect month cake! Some may be upset with the death of their television, but because ours was the huge, ugly old tube version, I was elated. Finally, I was going to join the rest of the rat race (who wouldn’t be running nearly as fast if we stopped buying all this frivolous stuff) and own a flat panel television.
I gotta say, my new television is big and pretty and I am thrilled to replace the old dinosaur. The only little thorn in my behind is the box. My very anal husband informed me, to my absolute horror, that we needed to keep the TV box for a few months “just in case”. Now, if we owned a garage or had an attic or even a storage room I would not have had a giant temper tantrum, but we of course have none of those wonderful storage areas. What we do have is a huge “F”ing box and absolutely no place to put it. The box is, no word of a lie, 5 feet tall by 3/12 feet wide. It is almost twice the size of the actual television! I am convinced that if we had the space my husband would keep the boxes to everything we buy. I once bought a surround sound system from a guy on Kijiji and when I went to pick it up he took me to his “box room”. This guy had a huge room in his home dedicated to empty freakin boxes. WTF? That is some kinda crazy. Anyhoo, back to my problem. Big Ass Box + Not one inch of empty space = Very Bitchy Me.
Because I would rather poke my eyes out than stare at this box in my living room for the next 3-6 months, I moved it into the laundry room. Only problem was that I had crammed it between the boiler and the water heater and my husband insisted this is a fire hazard….So, I moved it out a foot or so which then blocked the entrance to the room…damn, damn damn. What the hell was I suppose to do with this gigantic box? I had a brilliant idea! If every square inch of wall space is full, why not take advantage of the empty ceiling space?? I got a stool and a hammer and nails and hammered in some nails to hold the bungee cords in place. I then hauled up this huge box and began to try to suspend it from the ceiling with bungee cords… on my tippee toes while balancing it on my head and standing on a tiny plastic stool that has a maximum weight capacity about 100 pounds less than me. The irrational thoughts running through my head sound something like this: “The odds of this falling on someone’s head are pretty good, but the odds of someone dying from getting struck in the head by an empty box are pretty slim”. After about a half an hour of trying a thousand different ways to hang this giant ass box from my ceiling I suddenly remember I have an unused shower in the downstairs bathroom. This eureka moment saved me from yet another “you’re a moron” look from my husband which I would have surely gotten as soon as he noticed the huge box hanging from my ceiling with bungee cords and duct tape.
Now, the point of this little story is simple. You can organize your crap every which way from Sunday but if you live in a 900 square foot home which also doubles as a home daycare and your husband also runs his business from the place… Throw out the damn box or move. Those are your options. No amount of reorganizing is going to make your home bigger; you are officially out of space.