Nesting

My mottto/sanity is defined by the saying: Everything has a place, and there's a place for everything.

I don't know how old I was when I started nesting. Experts say it happens a few months to several hours before you give birth, but I have been nesting for years. When we bought this house we were sure there was enough storage space. In reality, there is. We just have too much stuff. Between duffles full of Army gear, camping gear, and snowboarding gear we could fill a whole wall of our garage. Not to mention the impressive collection of tools that Dustin has acquired since we got married, a bike, a huge snow blower (it's on tank treads), a lawnmower, gardening tools, a freezer, bricks and lumber. There is more, but if I think about it too much I become a grouchy nester. It will take some ingenuity, engineering, and luck to organize our garage so that everything fits, including a car. Luckily, I am married to a hard worker who enjoys home improvement and is excited to build an area where his tools will reside. In the meantime I remind myself that the baby won't care if the car fits in the garage and she certainly does not care that everything has a place, and there's a place for everything.