I didn't realize I could put a title in

I came upstairs to my laptop to try to stop the hyperventilating that was about to occur in the basement. I have spent the last hour or so trying to figure out where to put the 50 or so board games that Kyler keeps tearing apart, working out where all the tiny pieces of Lego's go, and puzzling on why we have so much shit. (This is not the hyperventilating part.) Then I innocently go into the storage part to try to figure out whether I can put the overflow toys in with the already HUGE area of overflow toys. (This is the hyperventilating part.) I want to cry.
Our storage part of the basement is of medium size with shelves all around the periphery, all groaning with an excess of things such as dinner plates, Christmas china, candles, photo albums, and general "who knows where the fuck it should go' type of material possessions. Then, in one corner is our beautiful wooden crib, made for our babies by Kyle's Aunt. (It is stuffed to the brim with coats, snow pants, and who knows where the fuck it should go type of possessions.) Behind this are numerous plastic tubs that will be hanging out on the planet for the next 5,00 years, despite all the precious contents (maternity clothes, baby memorabilia, and summer/winter clothes have long deteriorated.) Then...in the opposite corner, that turned into a 1/4 of the basement floor space, which now encroaches on the walking floor space are....toys. You name it, we have it. But I am too sentimental to purge the three rocking type horses that were given to us when our older boys were babies. (Three???!!!) And I can't donate the Huge box of Thomas trains, just in case the baby grows up to be a train fanatic. (Everything else has a similar sob story attached to it.)
Suffice to say it's ugly. So, on this snowy March afternoon (we are right back to the March's I know so well here), I guess I have to re-organize for the 1,000th time. Because you never know when any of it and all of it will be needed or desired once more.

Oh, and I didn't realize you could title your blogs until I read a fancy New York Times one. Sweet.