Lest you think everything is organized at my house, I present you with "The Junk Room..."

In it are 2 solid oak and teak desks which I do not like because they are too short (28" tall, barely high enough for me to shove my long legs under, and then I always hunch to work at them -- when they're clean, that is!). Since the desks are too low for me to comfortably sit at, I just use them as storage.
The room has become a repository of things my kids have outgrown, but are too nice to just donate or throw away. I could sell them on ebay, craigslist, or at a garage sale... someday. Then there are the things I want to save for eventual grandchildren, like that Norwegian baby carriage. We don't have an attic or basement, so it lives here. There's also a whole pile of clothes over there on the desk that need mending. If I wait long enough they'll be outgrown before I get to them. This room is also where the toys "disappear to" when they are not cleaned up -- it's the toy time-out room. It's also where we hide the breakable toys or favorite toys that my girls don't want wrecked when their more rambunctious friends come over to play.
Oh, and that lamp with 2 shades? I like the new shade better, but I need to get an adapter to fit the existing lamp, or just start over and get a new base. Haven't gotten around to that one yet.
All on the floor, under the card table set up in the foreground, are boxes of stuff from my mom's house that I need to sort through. Things like old albums filled with photos of my grandmothers' world travels:

Of course very few of the photos are labeled, the people are little pin-heads off in the distance, and there's no clue as to when, where, what, why, or who. I finally spent an afternoon removing all these photos from the albums which were terribly inefficient space-wise, and then sorted the photos, only saving ones that were in focus (most weren't) and featured something interesting. After several hours I'd reduced a box of thousands of photos to a neat little stack an inch high. My mom would kill me, don't tell. Somehow my mom expects me to absorb all the stuff from her gigantic house (with full basement and stand-up attic) into my little house with no basement or attic.
Oh, and I'm still plugging away at this project, but it is harder to make progress on because his photos are actually really good quality and many do capture family history. So I haven't done well in compressing those boxes of memorabilia.
Then there are the boxes of knick knacks that my mom thinks are valuable. Well, they probably would be if they'd been cared for, but most of the pieces are chipped and poorly glued back together, stained, scratched, or otherwise abused.
There are also a lot of pieces she thinks are original but are really cheap fakes that she or my grandmother didn't realize when they were buying them years ago. Going through all these boxes, checking on ebay, verifying authenticity (or not, as is mostly the case), and then breaking the news to my mom that there's no market for most of her stuff... it's exhausting.
I'm going under the assumption that when my mom finally consents to leaving her big house, either for the nursing home or the cemetery, I'll have to just call in an Estate Sale company. But I've heard horror stories. Just this past weekend my mom helped one of her friends with an estate sale at the house of an elderly relative. My mom described an absolute frenzy of buyers tossing things here and there, and the estate sale employees letting stuff go for pennies on the dollar, if not for free. After two days the woman made less than $2,000. on a house that had been filled with antiques. Mom and her friend suspect that the estate sale company took in a lot more money than they claimed, or that the employees were just reckless in letting stuff go for free that should have been sold.
If ever there is an incentive for me to sort through and get rid of stuff, this is it. Now to just find the time.