If there's one store I love more than most in this big city, it's The Container Store. For someone as Type-A as myself, the container store provides the locale for a therapeutic shopping spree. It is there that I find happiness in the form of plastic storage products in all shapes and sizes. I don't even bring my lunch to work, but have somehow convinced myself that I need a container in the shape of a slice of Wonderbread to keep my sandwiches fresh. I'm often tempted to buy a whole new fully loaded spice rack, despite the fact that I have a lazy susan chock-full of spices at home. And while I still haven't quite figured out the proper use for a mason jar, I own at least four- currently filled with extra buttons and loose change.
In addition to some of the ridiculous and unnecessary storage/shelving/organizing products they tempt consumers with, they also offer some incredibly functional items. For anyone who went away to college, you'll agree that plastic totes are the key to a smooth transition out of your parents house.* In addition, once you've moved in to your shared 8X8 dorm room, you can store miscellaneous items in these totes under your raised bed. Even as an adult with a "big girl apartment," I still find these containers an invaluable resource for creating space in the less than roomy living quarters of Manhattan.
*Warning: In case you've been in the working world too long, don't forget that we are currently at the peak of back-to-school season. It is now that you should avoid Target, WalMart, BB&B, and other such mad-houses, as they are teeming with eager-to-be-free college freshman frantically shopping for items to outfit their new digs.
Anyway, on my most recent visit to the Container Store I was shocked to see the following warning label on one such tote:
Please do not store your child in this container.
Really??
Perhaps the label would be more accurate if it read:
If this warning tells you something you didn't already know,
please use birth control.
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