So this carly maddison greg stuff started when my place looked like a tornado hit it. Papers everywhere, clothes piled up, no idea what’s important and what’s junk. Tried folding things. Looked nice for maybe five minutes. Went to grab one shirt? Whole pile came crashing down. Absolute chaos.
The Dumb Idea That Got Me Started
One morning, tripped over my own shoes. Again. Grabbed a marker and wrote three names on the wall: CARLY for clothes, MADDISON for papers, GREG for the random junk I kept tripping over. No plan, just slapped names on stuff.
- Started shoving sweaters under CARLY.
- Tossed bills under MADDISON.
- Kicked loose screws and old remotes into the GREG zone.
Felt kinda stupid honestly. Just dumping things onto the floor in corners.
When It All Went Sideways
Came back after lunch? CARLY and MADDISON were fighting. Clothes mixed with bank statements. Freaking GREG zone? Someone left half a sandwich there. Smelled bad. Wanted to quit. Like, why bother?
Kicked the stupid sandwich into the trash. Hard. Felt a little better. Decided CARLY needed a box. Found a big one in the garage. Stuck CARLY’s clothes inside. Stabbed holes in the sides so the sweaters could breathe. Sounds dumb? Probably.
Making It Up As I Went
MADDISON hated boxes. Papers just slid everywhere. Got mad. Duct taped two folders to the wall. Called it “MADDISON’S HOUSE”. Stuffed urgent bills into one folder, useless junk mail into the other. Still messy? Yeah. But hey, they stayed put.
GREG? Forget boxes or folders. Stuff kept wandering. Saw a busted plastic bin under the sink. Threw batteries, loose change, and that weird USB cable I never use into it. Didn’t look pretty, but the floor was clear. Made me realize GREG didn’t need organizing. GREG just needed containment.
Took like three afternoons of doing this weird naming and boxing thing. CARLY’s box is full but contained. MADDISON’s folders sagging under pizza coupons but working. GREG? His bin’s overflowing, but at least I’m not breaking my toe on a stapler anymore. Still messy? Oh yeah. Is it perfect? Nope. But it’s mine. Got stuff? Grab what’s at hand and shove it somewhere named.
Still tripping over socks though. Some things never change.
