Once upon a time, there was a method to the madness. It was a time of gilded light, and a time before the home library had that awkward growth spurt. It was in those days that there existed a wooden shelf dedicated entirely to DVDs. They formed alphabetized queues, waiting for play. It was peace, and goodness reigned over the land.

Then, storage became a problem, and the collection found itself neglected in a coat closet, their once pristine order no longer taking precedence...dark times, they were. They were stacked in five quivering towers, and it was akin to an overlarge, slightly more expensive, edition of Jenga. I admit my own folly in lording over the storage of them there, but sense holds little bearing in the decluttering of a home.

Then, as the belongings which once made up an abode became intimidating gates of cardboard, the DVDs found themselves squeezed like sardines, to plastic-cracking intensity, inside handy little contraptions they call "under-the-bed-storage boxes". They're a sight to behold...they're, well, they are boxes...three-dimensional...with covers. And they fit under sleeping-places such as beds. Genius. I'm sure I'm not doing them justice in my telling, but they are so state-of-the-art that I scarcely know the words.

This takes us to present. Yeah, that's right, I sleep over a an impressive collection of disorganized multimedia. Often, I find myself in the mood for a particular flick, and my eyes comb the over-stuffed boxes repeatedly, never finding the title until I've taken leave of the task, consumed some coffee, and cussed at Clem. Then, I seem to be imbued with the ability to find it instantly...discovering it situated right in front of my eyes all along.

"Hey, Laura? Do you have Holiday Inn?" Brenda called out hopefully as I got in yesterday afternoon.

"Uh..?" I knew I had it...I mean, come on, Bing Crosby! "Yeah...?" But, I grew intimidated at thoughts of finding it, and I found myself properly daunted. I traipsed down the stairs and paced some space before rolling my shoulders back and kneeling to the task before me. I looked down the center one first...then the one to the right, and then the left. It's a game of odds, so I try to mix it up. I often exclaimed irritatedly to Miles that a given movie always seems to be in the last place I look.

He would reply in his snotty way, "Well, duh. Of course it will be...you don't keep looking after you've found it, so it will always be in the last place you look." If looks could kill, man...if LOOKS. COULD. KILL.

Well, after I scanned all three containers in the above-stated order and repeated the exercise three times, I pulled the middle container out once more and found the sucker. Essentially I've moved from Jenga to Where's Waldo.