After I hung up my key rack and stepped back to admire it, I tripped over my husband’s shoes and nearly fell into the coats. Then I took a good look at my front porch. Eeesh. Organizing has never been my forte. I am fairly organized at work because I’m paid to be, but at home, things get misplaced constantly. I am always stumbling over things and looking for coats and purses, so this is long overdue.
Here are some before pictures:
And now that I’ve sufficiently embarrassed myself, hopefully that will keep me from slipping back into messiness.
First things first: Get some music. It’s easier to motivate yourself when you have some good tunes to listen to. I also grabbed a chair to sit on so I didn’t have to stoop down the entire time. Your knees will thank you. Next, get a bunch of garbage bags. There should be one for garbage and one for goodwill. As much as I like to donate things, I don’t think goodwill needs old newspapers. I don’t even know what they were doing in here in the first place. Same goes for odd shoes and mittens. And what the hell is that tennis racket doing there? I think it’s from my tennis lessons in the sixth grade!
Next, really start to purge with your coats and shoes. Be ruthless. I had WAAAY too many shoes. Shoes that I haven’t worn in ages, shoes worn out that I would never wear again and shoes that were so uncomfortable that I wouldn’t wear them to sit all day at work. All of these shoes went into the donate pile (these were in very good condition and barely worn. Anything smelly, old or worn out goes into the garbage bag).
My husband had quite a few pairs of shoes, as well. We kept his good dress shoes, winter boots, rubber boots, deck shoes, sneakers and his “shit-kickers”, which are shoes he uses to mow the lawn or work outside in. I kept my work shoes, winter boots, sandals and dressy shoes I still loved to wear. Out went old winter coats that were torn and didn’t fit anymore. Grant gave up some summer jackets and fall coats, as well. That man has a lot of coats! I also removed any items that didn’t belong in the front porch, but had migrated there over the past two years (did I mention that this was WAAAY overdue?).
I also had a little shoe organizer. Well, I put my shoes in there and never wore them again. The slots were perfect, though, for scarves, hats and gloves for winter. In the bottom slot, I put some natural shoe deodorizing/refresher spray (I gave the shoes a good squirt before I put them away). That way it’s close to the shoes for when I want to give them a quick spray. I had bought that spray a long, long time ago and it got lost amongst the chaos of the top shelf.
Now, being ruthless doesn’t mean you throw out the things you love. I love purses. Probably too much, but they always fit, look cute and can really pull an outfit together. I am not donating or throwing away my purses. So, instead, I put them into two bins that went on the shelf overhead. A couple of bags that wouldn’t fit went along side on the shelf (including an adorable Pac-Man overnight bag I got last month. Squee!), as well as the soft sided travel cooler for car trips. The third bin holds umbrellas and assorted Hallowe’en decorations that we use for the front porch. The only other thing on that shelf is a fire extinguisher. Hopefully we’ll never need to use it.
Next, I swept the floor and vaccuumed the rug. I put the boots and shoes back. The winter boots went in back, as well as shoes we don’t wear everyday. Grant’s size 13 quintuple E shoes are on one side, my normal size shoes on the other. I hope this will keep him from plunking his canoes he calls shoes on top of my dressy work shoes. Only time will tell. I also kept my reusable grocery bags in the front porch. I keep forgetting to bring them and keep buying more, which is why we have enough to bag the groceries for the army. And maybe enough for the navy, too. Hopefully this remind me to grab them as I’m running out the door.
And here are the afters:
Whew. It was a fair bit of work, but it looks pretty good! I’m very pleased with my work for the day. Now when the paperboy comes (or paper old man, since he’s about 72) I won’t have to fear his judgement as I race to find my change purse.