The hall closet used to be the place things went when company was coming. If you opened it fast, a sleeping bag, two umbrellas and a box of Christmas cards would come out at you, followed by the vacuum. Before every trip last year, I'd spend most of Thursday evening digging through it for the cooler packs and the small duffel, and Wes would stand in the hallway asking if I'd seen the lantern.
Last Saturday we emptied it out onto the living room rug and started over. It took most of the day and $36 in bins, and I think it will cut our packing time in half.
I'm a little embarrassed to list it, but here goes. Three umbrellas, one broken. A sleeping bag that hasn't been used since before we bought the house. Two coolers, one with a cracked lid. A jumble of cooler packs, some of which had clearly leaked. A camp lantern, two headlamps and enough loose batteries to start a store. Beach towels mixed with real towels. Paper plates from a cookout in 2022. Wes's old tackle box, which belongs in the shed. A bag of hotel soaps.
We made three piles: keep, give away and throw out. The broken umbrella, the cracked cooler and the leaking cooler packs went in the trash. The sleeping bag went to Tonya, who wanted it for her grandkids. The tackle box went to the shed where it belongs.
The bins
I bought four clear plastic bins with lids at a discount store in Lumberton, $9 each, so $36 total. Clear was the point. I want to see what's in them without opening them. Each one got a strip of masking tape and a marker label:
- Cooler bin. Cooler packs (four, all new last summer), a small cutting board, a knife with a sheath, paper towels, zip bags, a roll of foil, a can opener, a bottle opener, plastic forks and spoons. The good cooler sits on top of this bin on the closet floor.
- Camping bin. The lantern, both headlamps, batteries in a bag, a tarp, bug spray, a lighter, a first-aid pouch and two foam sleeping pads rolled up and strapped to the side. When we borrow Tonya's tent, it gets set right next to this bin the night before.
- Beach bin. Two beach towels, sunscreen, a folding fan, the cheap sand toys we use to dig June a spot to lie in, and the folded beach chairs leaning beside it.
- Overnight bin. Our two duffels, and inside each one a toiletry bag that stays packed: a spare toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, a comb and a phone charger that never leaves the bag.
That last one made the biggest difference. Most of my Thursday packing time used to go to running back and forth to the bathroom collecting things. Now the toiletry bags are just ready. I buy travel-size toothpaste when it's on sale and refill them when we get home.
What lives elsewhere
A few things don't go in the closet because they belong in the car. The paper road atlas lives in the passenger door pocket. Wes keeps a tire gauge, a flashlight and jumper cables in the back of the CR-V, and after our battery died in Southern Pines last month, I'm not going to question him about that.
The trip envelope, where I keep all the receipts from a weekend, lives in a shoebox on the top shelf of the closet with the empty envelopes for the year. One per month, labeled, waiting.
What it saved
I timed myself packing before our December trip to the Pinehurst area, just for fun. It took about an hour and ten minutes, counting the search for the lantern. I'll time it again before our trip next month, but I did a practice run last night with the cooler bin and an overnight bag, and it took twenty-five minutes, most of which was making sandwiches.
That's not just a convenience thing. When packing is fast, we leave on time Friday morning. When we leave on time, we skip the Friday breakfast stop and eat what's in the cooler. That's $15 or $20 back in the trip account right there, every trip.
The bins also make it obvious when we're running low on something. I can see the bug spray is nearly empty before we're standing at a campsite at dusk. I put it on the list now instead of buying it at a gas station on the way at twice the price.
Wes inspected the finished closet like it was a truck coming in for inspection. He opened every bin, put the lids back on and said, "Where are the umbrellas?" Two good ones now hang on a hook on the inside of the door. He nodded. That's a passing grade in this house.
