The pile of shoes on the floor of my closet had gotten a little out of control. Okay, fine, a lot out of control. After spending ten minutes digging for one brown "work sandal" yesterday morning (yes, the same yesterday morning when I was tres late for work) and waking the B monster with my rumblings and cursings, something drastic had to be done. Ten minutes might not sound like a lot but it's really the most ridiculous thing to happen to shoes since high heels for babies.
Too embarrassed (and lacking the required forethought) to take a before photo, my closet looked.... well, somewhere between this:
...though it admittedly resembled more towards the "giant toilet pile" end of the spectrum than the "Amelda Marcos meets Lindsay Lohan" with angels singing in harmony end.
Now, after hours of building and sorting and arguments with inanimate objects, it looks like this:
So, take that, Amelda! You know you wish you had a closet foreman.
Oh and yes, I am still missing the brown work sandal. Thanks for noticing.