Oh, Rubbermaid, How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
One... two... three... four... five. Yep, I count five.
Unfortunately, I can't seem to locate my sixth container at this time, so I'm stuck using a clothes basket, which just irritates my OCD to no end. However, everything that is in those containers, and that awful basket mocking me with its non-conformity, is extremely organized. I have one container loaded with boys' clothes, one container full of shoes, one container with girls' bottoms, one container with girls' short-sleeved tops, and one container with girls' long-sleeved tops and dresses. And the evil basket contains girls' outerwear.
Ladies, please promise me that when you see my containers and their contents, you won't call 9-1-1 and have me committed. Technically, it's not really a disorder unless it keeps me from living a normal life, right? Of course, if I start screaming at you for messing up the perfectly organized contents of my Rubbermaid containers, somebody's gonna have to slap the crazy out of me!