Disorganized bandit AT LARGE

Last night I hosted an event that was on its face a way to show off my house for all of my friends. Truly though, it was a way for Wonder Boy and I to parade our friends through the pantry and soak up the compliments. (It hardly mattered that clearly a lot of the compliments were laced with sarcasm because who in their right minds would care so much about a pantry.)
While overall the event went smoothly and I think everyone had fun, someone decided to wreak havoc on my well-organized pantry.
A while back I posted some images from my pantry. I refer to these now to illustrate the crimes of last evening:

In this image you will see my recently purchased stair-step platforms that I use to organize my canned goods. I have another set on the opposite shelves where I organize my spices. The cans of soup are all facing out and staggered heights allows me to quickly ascertain what kind of soup is in each can.
Next to the soup are all of my grains. The boxes of rice and couscous are organized by type.

And I’ll admit it. My spices are in alphabetical order. I may not be a clean person, but dammit, I am organized!

Exhibit B
Part of having a well-organized room is having the things you need most at an accessible level. So you will see in this image that I have my vases, primarily used in the summer and when Wonder Boy is being particularly sweet, up high. There they can be reached as needed but are generally out of the way.

This morning when I went into my pantry the following crimes of disorganization had occurred:

• One box of Grape Nuts was sitting on an empty shelf, rather than with other breakfast items
• Two spices had been switched so that in the alphabet S came before R
• One spice had been set on a shelf far away from the others
• A can of soup had been places with the baked goods
• Another can of soup had been situated with the snacks
• One box of rice was sitting on the windowsill

These crimes are bear the trademark of my relatives, specifically my father or siblings. As my father was the only one present last night, I assumed he was the culprit. He would have happily fessed up the deeds were they his. But he denies them. Which means…

The culprit is on the run!

Lock your doors. Barricade your pantries. Hide your label makers.

This post originally appeared on Kate’s Point of View. © Kate. All rights reserved.