This basement playroom is pure adventure—books everywhere, dolls mid-drama, and a Barbie party that ended under suspicious circumstances. The electric piano leans coolly against the wall, the drum set sits like it owns the place, and two reading chairs look like they’ve seen things.
We rescue books from excavation, tuck Barbies and dolls into bins, and straighten the chairs so they stop judging us. The instruments get their own stage, the green carpet takes a deep breath, and the whole room feels ready for whatever fun comes next

​I walk into the living room and kitchen, which has a warm, lived-in vibe—like it’s been through some adventures and is taking a breather. The big aquarium is empty, quietly waiting for its next aquatic residents, while laundry bags are hanging out in every corner like they’re having their own little party. Clothes are casually draped across the couch, as if it’s their favorite hangout spot. But no rush—this space is simply ready for a little TLC. I begin folding the laundry, and slowly, the couch reappears, the bags get sorted, and the aquarium gets a fresh start. Little by little, the whole area begins to feel lighter, brighter, and a lot more welcoming.

I step into the basement, and it's like walking into a secret world. There are boxes stacked high, each one holding a mystery, and the garment rack is packed with clothes as if it's showcasing a collection. But I’m here to save the day! My mission? Help this space breathe again.  To make room for new possibilities.
The boxes seem to share their stories as I open them—old photos, forgotten gadgets, a collection of half-empty candles—and each one holds a memory. The garment rack is no different, a wardrobe of forgotten fashion that could use a little TLC. Slowly but surely, I’m untangling the chaos and revealing the space beneath, one item at a time. By the end of it, we’ll have a basement that feels more like a calm retreat and less like a maze!

I walk into this dining room in Belleville, and I can't help but grin.  This is the sort of challenge I live for. The table is like a little kingdom of bins, food, and appliances, with a blender lurking somewhere underneath, probably plotting its next smoothie. There are bags and boxes stacked high on the chairs like some kind of modern art sculpture. Canning supplies are peeking out from one corner, as though they’re trying to make a grand return after a long vacation. This room is full of potential—once I get through it, the table will be ready for a meal and the chairs will be happy to do their job, sitting and offering a place to relax.

This collection of plastic garbage bags and paper grocery bags wait by the door like a polite crowd at the end of a parade. These bags are filled with all sorts of things—clothes, kitchen gadgets, trinkets, items that are too far gone to be rehomed—that are about to be sent off to the dumpster or the donation center.  They are a visual reminder that progress is happening, even if it’s in small, bagged-up increments. These bags are full of the stuff that no longer serves a purpose, but they’re also full of potential—room for new things, space for fresh energy. In the grand scheme of organizing, this pile is just a moment in time, a gentle prelude to a cleaner, clearer space. And honestly? I kind of love it. It’s not chaos, it’s just transition.

In preparation for our client's move to a new home, our team has worked like clockwork to get everything packed, making sure every item is wrapped, labeled, and stacked with the kind of efficiency that would make even a professional mover jealous. Everything is in its place, ready to go, just waiting for the big move day.
There’s no chaos here, just smart, careful packing that’ll make unpacking a breeze. Each box is like a little puzzle piece, packed with care and precision so the transition to the new home will be smooth. No scrambling at the last minute, no running out of tape—just pure, organized efficiency. 

This mighty mountain of trash bag is a true monument to decision-making. Once a swirling vortex of “I might need this,” now a neatly contained victory. If decluttering were an Olympic sport, my client would take gold. My client can relax, her garage can breathe, and the trash bags have fulfilled their destiny.  And honestly, is there anything more satisfying than a curbside tribute to a job well done?

I step into this closet, and it feels like walking into the heartbeat of learning and creativity. Shelves are lined with bins of markers, stacks of notebooks, and folders brimming with papers and projects. Clear containers hold pencils, rulers, and scissors, while a tangle of glue sticks and loose erasers hints at countless school assignments and art adventures. The hum of productivity practically lingers in the air.
This isn’t just a closet—it’s a mini workstation for budding scholars and creators. The stray pencil underfoot and the occasional avalanche of paper tell the story of a space that’s well-used and full of potential. With a bit of tweaking, we’ll bring it all together—a place where every notebook is easy to grab, every supply has a home, and the ideas can flow as freely as ever.