The Anti-Organization Playbook
Real Homes deserve Real Solutions
I'm writing this from my kitchen floor at 11:42 pm. There's a half-eaten yogurt next to me that I'm pretty sure belongs to the dog now.
It's been one of those weeks. The kind where the news makes you want to hurl your phone into the ocean, but you still check it every 18 minutes just in case this is the scroll that changes everything (It won't.)
So, instead of doomscrolling myself into oblivion, I tried something weirdly good for my mental health.
I bought four tiny roller perfumes and assigned each one to a daily ritual:
Vanilla for bedtime stories
Citrus for weekend pancake-making
Sandalwood for movie nights
Cedar for morning coffee before the world gets loud
My husband thinks I've fully lost it. But he knew what he was signing up for, so stay with me.
Do you remember that era last year when we were all suddenly experts on Danish furniture because of design podcasts? Just me?
Well, one designer mentioned he wore different colognes for specific family moments. One scent for beach trips, another for Saturday pancakes, a third for bedtime stories, so his kids would, years later, smell something familiar and feel… safe. Loved. Home.
And that just stuck with me.
Scent bypasses logic. It goes straight to memory, straight to feeling. Between us
One minute, you're folding laundry; the next, you're eight years old, standing barefoot in your mom's kitchen, knowing deep in your bones that everything is okay.
Last night, during chapter five of Goodnight Moon, my six-year-old buried his face in my sleeve and said:
"You smell like summer and a sunburn."
Look, I didn't set out to rebrand myself as a human mood ring, but here we are.
The world keeps burning. But in our house? We're anchoring the good stuff. Even if it's vanilla-scented and mildly passive-aggressive.
And my Husband does agree with me about scents and memories, it’s just hard to prioritize tasks right now. And I agree with him on that.
Tiny rebellion. Massive emotional impact.
Niche Weird Things Saving Me Right Now
🔥 Stove Tray Styling Tip: The difference between clutter and curation? One small tray & this olive tray set
🐟 Fish Doorbell (Real Thing!): Just a Dutch fish doorbell reminding me that joy still exists on the internet
📬 The One-Touch Rule: Touch your mail once. File it, toss it, deal with it, or spend eternity shuffling piles.
🪣 F*ck It Bucket Energy: Call it chaos containment or the reason my bedroom floor is finally visible.
🪴 Pot Feet for the Win: My plants may be dying, but at least they’re elevated.
Not fancy. Not Pinterest-worthy. Just easy when nothing else is.
Hit reply and tell me what's saving you lately. I read every message several times, I promise.
Minimalism Isn't Peace. It's Fear Of Commitment.
I said what I said.
Minimalism always made me feel like I was doing something wrong, like the real me was too much, too messy, too human.
Lately, I've been letting in the layered, the mismatched, the emotionally sticky things that make a house feel lived-in:
The bookshelf that looks like the librarian quit last month
The rock collection that my son insists are dinosaur eggs
The lumpy pottery that reminds me of a trip we couldn't afford but took anyway
I want a home that feels collected, not curated.
Chaotic, but with a soul.
And from the messages flooding my inbox last week, I'm not alone.
The Date Situation I Can't Shut Up About
Frozen dates = nature's caramel
Dates with peanut butter = criminally good
Dates in ice cream = peak adult decision-making
Sautéed dates in olive oil with salt = my entire personality now
The Thing I Haven't Told You Yet
For the past six months, I've been testing different organizational systems in my own chaotic space.
Not because I'm naturally organized (I'm not) or because I have any professional credentials (I don't).
But because I got tired of:
Being told I needed more "discipline" to maintain impossible systems
Buying expensive containers that sat empty after week two
Feeling like my messy clear bins were a reflection of my failure as a person
So I started experimenting.
I tried all the "expert" methods first. They all failed spectacularly. Then, I started creating my own weird little systems based on a single principle:
“If it doesn't work when I'm exhausted, overwhelmed, or just don't give a sh*t, it doesn't work at all.”
Honestly, I wasn't planning to share any of this. These were just personal solutions for my own chaotic life.
But when I casually mentioned my "f*ck it bucket" last week, something unexpected happened.
Messages FLOODED my inbox.
That's when I knew I had to document everything! The weird systems, the tiny hacks, and the permission to be imperfect have finally brought some peace to my space.
I call it “The Anti-Organization Playbook.”
It's not fancy. And unlike most advice out there...
It actually works for real humans.
(Read on for the weekly free tips, or get the complete playbook)
What's Coming Next Week (Free for Everyone):
My controversial take on "cleaning routines" (and what works)
The one product under $15 that has transformed my entryway chaos
Why most storage containers are a complete waste of money
Until next week, remember that your home isn't a reflection of your worth. It's just a container for your beautifully chaotic life.
Love you, mean it!
Peyton.
P.S. If you're thinking "these ideas are too simple to actually work," that's exactly the point. Simplicity is what makes them stick when everything else fails.
Last week Sarah texted, "The f*ck it bucket has literally changed my life. For the first time in 12 years, I feel somewhat organized."
P.P.S. Curious about what members are getting this week?
It's the complete Anti-Organization Playbook plus the live Q&A on Friday, where I'll answer your specific questions. You can join anytime (or never—I'm still going to be here writing free newsletters either way).