The clutter gene

My father's family are some of the dearest, most generous people I've ever known. They will give you the shirts off their back—if they can find them. Their houses are comfortable, welcoming, and stocked like a Big Lots store.

Everything from soap to paper products to pajamas to snowman tableware is stacked floor-to-ceiling. Any brand, any size....it doesn't matter. All that matters is that it was a good deal, and someday they will use it, share it, or give it away. In the meantime, talk about clutter.

I know I inherited the clutter gene. Just look at my beading room/office.

To successfully walk from my work area to the computer, I must navigate boxes and trays of beads on the floor. I barely have room on the table to work because of the bead containers and tools. There's a large table off to the side piled with mailing envelopes, a year's worth of bubble wrap, tape, printer paper, wrapping paper and ribbon. And I just saw my postal scale buried under there. Yep, there's a picture of my kids, a 2009 calendar, some CDs, a plastic dinner plate (go figure?), a wine bottle gift bag. And two mini Tootsie Rolls.

I think it's time to conquer the clutter. If I find any snowman tableware I'll let you know.