Checking the box

I have an addiction. One that most of my family members and friends don’t know about.

I love boxes.

It started out small. I held on to them for normal reasons, like wrapping presents or to mail items. As my boys grew up and were getting their own places when they went to college, my thinking became, “I need hold on to these boxes so they’ll be here when Jonathon and Jacob move.”

Then the whole “Marie Kondo” thing exploded. For those of you who may not know, Marie Kondo is a famous Japanese organizing consultant. She’s written several books and has been featured on television.

I enjoy deep cleaning and organizing my home. (You may think that’s crazy and be saying that the box addiction doesn’t look so bad now.) When I heard about Ms. Kondo and her “KonMari” method, I was practically giddy. Especially when she said that you don’t need special store-bought containers to organize your home once it’s been decluttered. You can use plain, old, ordinary … you guessed it … boxes.

Sign me up.

I began to save every single box that came anywhere near this house. I gleefully used them all over. It was almost instinctual. I filled every one of our closets and drawers with a variety of boxes to contain and organize items. Whenever I saw a cute, sturdy little box, it beckoned me …

“You can use me somewhere,” it said. “Don’t you want to organize all your dental items … floss, toothpaste, mouthwash? I can contain all of it and make it look beautiful.”

I have “KonMaried” my house from top to bottom.

When it was time to clean my basement out this year, I was startled by how many boxes I had saved. They were piled from floor to ceiling, in multiple spots. At this point both boys had been in their college dwellings for years and weren’t planning on moving again for a long time. I have a handful of boxes for presents in our gift-wrapping station. I have nothing left to organize in our home.

So why was I keeping them? This overflow of cardboard containers was the exact opposite of what I always strive to accomplish.

My husband John was surprised to see me breaking the boxes down later and putting them in the back of my car for recycling.

“You know you have a problem, right?” he asked. I looked up at him and paused before replying (a wise thing to do in the empty nester stage of life … or any stage, for that matter), “Yes, I know. I swear, I’m going to do better. I’ll only keep a few in the basement.”

John raised his eyebrows as if to say, “Really?”

I’ve been overcoming my addiction, and so far, I’ve kept my promise. As of this writing, I only have three boxes at the top of our basement stairs.

I expect John and all of you to hold me accountable … but don’t box me in.

This box tempted our columnist, but she resolutely broke it down and put it in the recycling bin. (Photo provided by Amy Shankland)