Label Lunacy

All I really meant to do was to tame my rag-tag spice cupboard.

I got tired of mismatched slapdash spice bottles cluttering my shelves.  It seemed I could never find the spice I was looking for and ended up buying another bottle only to discover not only did I have that particular spice the whole time, but that I had at least two or three opened bottles of it crammed toward the back of the shelf.  Argh!

I commenced a surefire recipe to subjugate my spices: 
I bought a bunch of deli containers from the local restaurant supply store and then went out and bought one of those new-fangled wiz-bang label makers and  (this next part was a big mistake) plenty of extra label cartridges. 



Then in a fastidious fit that lasted a mere half hour, I conquered the cabinet:

But of course I couldn't just stop there.  My little pantry project escalated into a label mania. No sooner had I finished making my spices all neat and tidy, I was overtaken by an unexpected new passion and became enchanted beguiled by my new label maker.    Soon I was labeling things that didn't even need a label.

Then the kids got bewitched by the machine and started labeling things of their own:

Connor labeled his baseball collection:

Mitchell labeled his collection of computer parts:

and Chloe even labeled her phone:

Quickly everyone in the family discovered that it was possible to be the author of a label and remain blissfully anonymous--impossible to trace. With this new revelation we were soon all fighting over the sticker spewing gizmo and found all kinds of things that had far too long gone unlabeled:

 

 How have we ever lived this long without this extraordinary contraption? It's revolutionized our lives...anonymously.