Bin There, Done That

Let us contemplate, for a moment, in the midst of our overly busy and complicated lives, the miracle that is the storage bin.

That container of plastic or rubber or some unknown petroleum-based chemically produced substance, see-through or opaque, in festive colors or sensible green or gray, hopefully with a lid that fits.

It can be found in shapes and sizes ranging from shoebox to steamer trunk. Flat to fit under the bed. Deep and roomy for, well, whatever.

The miracle of the storage bin is that no matter how many of them you have, you always need more (sort of the opposite of the miracle of the loaves and fish.)

Or at least, I do. At least once a month, I make the ritual pilgrimage to Target, that temple of tasteful consumption, to contemplate the aisles of boxes and decide which one will best suit to store the offending item that needs to be contained, like radioactive waste, lest it get out of hand and overwhelm my household.

Most recently the item was Christmas decorations, which reproduce themselves frantically during the ten non-Christmas season months, and then emerge from their dark cave under the steps to festoon the tree and every flat surface in the house and still there are cardboard boxes of ornaments, or figurines, or whatever left over.

The process of un-decoration is painful and lengthy, and after all of the cardboard boxes have been filled to the uttermost with the miscellany of the season, inevitably there are Santa throws, or dorknob decorators, or wreath hangers still in need of a home in which to propagate themselves, unseen, until next fall.

Plastic storage bins, you say to yourself. Plastic storage bins are the answer. Plastic storage bins will discipline those unruly and fecund decorations.

And then there are the photos which must be removed from every surface, so that those surfaces can be covered in Christmas ephemera. What to do with the photos?

Indeed, there are way too many photos on surfaces to begin with. You start out with a few iconic shots of the happy family, and graduation photos, and the next thing you know, the pictures are shoving each other off of the coffee table, or the mantel, or the piano. The photo of the family sitting on the beach is duking it out with the cute baby picture for primacy of tabletop real estate, and while they are preoccupied with the struggle, the happy grouping from the Christmas party is sidling over, ready to push both of them over the edge onto the floor.

So, you think to yourself, maybe there are too many photos out. Maybe some of them can be put away. Maybe I will rotate them on a monthly basis, arranging them tastefully, just so, so that they can be fully appreciated. And dusted.

Well, of course, that will never happen.

But you cull through the photos, promising them and yourself that someday they will again see the light of day. You group all of the winnowings together and then, the realization strikes you.

You need another storage bin.