Imaginary emergencies and storage carts
I bought a 12-drawer rolling storage cart last week.
Let me rephrase that:
Last week, I finally had enough.
For 3 years, I’ve piled rocks, paint, and other art supplies in boxes AND left them stacked in the corner of my bedroom.
Every time I wanted to create, I’d have to dig through boxes to get what I needed.
I’d move 13 pounds of rocks just to find my oxidized pennies.
I’d move 25 small bottles of acrylic paint just to find my hot glue gun.
I’d move 33 spools of ribbon just to find my pressed flowers.
It was chaos. But I thought I had it under control. (Sort of like my life — a controlled chaos.)
And I was wrong. Grape jelly meatballs wrong.
The last biodegradable straw for me came when Moose grabbed a rock and ran off with it while I was searching for a paintbrush.
When I caught up with him, he didn’t have it. I thought he swallowed it.
A terrible story unfolded in my mind like fancy fabric napkins preparing to wipe up strawberry vinaigrette. One that ended in the vet’s office paying for an expensive surgery to remove the rock.
Luckily, Ginger’s a bully and stole it from Moose before he could do something I would regret.
And that was it. No more boxes. No more searching. No more imaginary emergency surgeries.
So I bought a 12-drawer rolling storage cart.
And now, my art supplies are organized. I save time because I don’t have to sort through boxes trying to find what I need.
My controlled chaos is finally under control.
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P.S. Ginger was disgusted when she realized the rock she stole from Moose wasn’t a dog treat.