Cain't Say No

I've mentioned this before (although I cannot find the post), but I'll say it again: as a family with 6 kids, we find that people tend to give us stuff.  Extra onions, say, or kids' books long outgrown in the house of the giver, or even (well, especially) used clothes.  "Here," they say. "If you can't use it, I'm sure you know someone who does!"  I'm not sure if this is a commendatory reference to my networking abilities or an allusion to the giver's belief that big families know other big families.

So I am used to processing donations through my house.  But lately, what with 2 long-time neighbors moving, it's gotten a little extreme.  3 huge boxes of clothes sit next to my desk in the den, waiting to go to the neighborhood thrift store; next to them are 2 very large bags of books - old college books belonging to another neighbor's son.  She thought Theo might want them.  And in the kitchen?  My elderly neighbor who had to downsize essentially gave me the contents of her pantry.  As we all know, I already have a problem with condiment overload.  Well, that condiment problem just went nuclear.

This is the current overflow.  And who knew Chock Full o'Nuts still existed?

 And, yeah, there are all the ties.  We've got those, too.  Oh, and my friend's collection of plastic storage containers:

These are very useful.  I just haven't managed to use them yet.

They seem to have found a home on my dining room chair.  Martha Stewart would be proud.

All in all, what with the myriad boxes and donations lying around, the masking tape on the walls (for Paint Camp), the missing cabinet doors in the kitchen (again, Paint Camp), and the normal, everyday level of upheaval in the house, it looks as though we just moved in.  Which fact is a tad discouraging, considering that Larry and I have spent every spare minute over the past 5 years working to avoid exactly that scenario...

We're living the Myth of Sisyphus, people.  Right here in suburbia...