Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Waste Not Want Not

Of all the things I love about my home; fantastic view, large sundrenched deck, low mainenance yard, alley access, simple floor plan, quiet street, nice real estate neighbour to my left, stowic unapproachable neighbour to the right…yes it is my little piece of paradise, yet there is always something every woman (or man for that matter) can find flawed about their castle.

For me, and likely every woman out there, I find the lack of closet space my biggest issue. As I stroll through the many images of beautiful homes I’ve had the pleasure of viewing and photographing, I can’t help but admire the walk in closets! Some of these homes have one in every bedroom, and often also sport walk in pantries in the kitchen (ahhhhh).

But I have something special that I affectionately refer to as my walkin floor. Yes, like most teenagers, I have a closet, but alas it is far too full of clothes I just know at some point I will fit into again, and so the clothes that I do actually fit into find their place lovingly on my walkin floor.

Some items are in piles, some items are in neat stacks, some piles consist of collections of mismatched socks that have sadly lost their twins in traumatic laundry accidents, or have been stolen by our beloved labrador for chewing experiments. Either way, it is both interesting and challenging to locate the exact shirt I had intended to wear each morning, usually resulting in a massive dig and restructuring because my walkin floor system is not anywhere near as organized as the walkin closet I dream of having some day.

So as much as I adore my humble abode with stunning open views of the Port Moody inlet, I find that if not for the stunning views and sundrenched deck I would have this sucker up for sale in 10 seconds flat and take the first offer that hit the kitchen table.

As a side note, I recently found 10 of the missing sock twins from the corner of my walkin floor. They are all clean and ready to be reunited with their grieving twins, except for the holes that the dog affectionately adorned them with…which means they can only be worn on Sundays and in certain company. Oh well, waste not a holy sock, want not a walkin closet. A girl can dream, right?

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