We have a tiny little “room” in our house (more of a walk-in closet, really) which is where the washer and dryer live. It’s also my “craft” room–it houses my yarn and fabric collections, my sewing machines, and also my clothes (the closet in the master bedroom is S’s and the linens’ domain). It’s a rather nicely organized little room, with a worktable, cabinets, shelving, drawers, and a multitude of drying racks.
It is also, however, an invisible room: being a dead end, no one besides me ever traffics though, and there’s no reason why any company would ever go in there–even overnight guests. And so, it is a room with all the usual tendencies to disorder, but without any justification to really add it to the cleaning rotation. There’s always somewhere that needs cleaned more; another job that needs done first. Every other spot in the house is “more” important, from the basement to the coat closet. Over the years, my little hideaway had consequently gotten to be quite a wreck, a mass of strewn clothes from a particular toddler helping with the laundry, and piles of boxes and containers quickly tossed in there because it is indeed quite a significant amount of storage space for our house.
But while the girls and I were in Tennessee earlier this month, and S was home by himself, he tackled it. He cleaned it out, sorted through and organized my stuff (without throwing anything away!), prettied it up, and basically made it all perfect again. This was at first an odd choice of task, to my mind, but in the week since, I’ve really come to appreciate it. Even though it’s a very dark and kind of dingy room (remember it’s technically a closet), I love going in there and doing laundry or just standing there drinking in the orderliness. Everything is so organized and patiently waiting for me to find time to sew, or knit, or scrapbook, or… laundry.
I l like my little cubby. 🙂 And the fabulous fellow who put so much time and effort into fixing it for me.