I have a stash problem

Hi.  My name is Lauren and I have a stash problem. [Chorus of Replies:  "Hi Lauren."]  Really.  It's not entirely my fault...  When I began quilting, in 1996, we lived in a condo in California.  My stash lived in bins in the closet under the stairs.  This was inconvenient.  When I wanted to make something, I generally trotted off to the quilt shop and bought new fabric for whatever was on my mind.  If I finished the project, the leftover fabric went into a bin with like colored fabrics.  If I didn't quite finish the project, but had to clean up the dining room for some reason, the whole project went into its own individual bin.  Very organized.  Still, by the time we move to Virginia in 2003 I had eight big bins of fabric and 25 small bins containing UFOs.
In Virginia, my stash lives in the single car garage which is supposed to be my sewing room.  It is unfortunately also the garage and thus houses my stash, the bikes, one tall tool chest for automotive related tools, one set of shelves containing general household junk, the laundry facilities, and the completely fabulous wonderful eighty gallon hot water heater installed by PC a couple of weeks ago.  (Before the addition of this miraculous device we had only enough hot water for one short shower or shallow bath or load of dishes or laundry about every three hours.  Four of us live here.  It was inadequate at best.)
Still, a single car garage is a pretty big room.  I purchased some chrome pantry shelving, and moved and old dresser and my desk out there.  Storage is tight.  I have never been able to see the top of the dresser and the top of the desk simultaneously.  Never.  I'm still trying to figure out placement of my beloved stuff after seven years.

Semi-Organized fabric shelved by color 

I could perhaps have figured out where to put my original stuff but my stash grew by a power of five in October of 2009 when I finally packed up my inheritance from my mother in law, Linda, which had been sitting in storage waiting for me for nearly two years.  3,700 pounds of fabric, patterns, notions, and books.  Packed up and shipped via Amtrak.  36 new boxes to absorb into the never-organized and already crowded space.  It isn't pretty.  First, I continued the tradition of bins.
But, I couldn't see the fabric.  And I really don't need to buy more (at least not until I figure out what I have).  So one weekend I began unpacking all the bins and mixing up her fabric and mine by color.  At first, neatly folding with rulers for consistency, then less neatly as I became overwhelmed by the scope of simply folding.  So now, I'm at a horrible in between state where I just have towers of empty or partially empty bins everywhere, the visible shelves are nearly full, I'm tired of folding, and I JUST WANT TO SEW.  Really.

I have purged things I just didn't like.  I have gifted many works in progress that didn't appeal to me that I was unlikely to finish.  I got rid of a lot of my own UFOs because I don't want them.  It is hard to just give away my mother in laws projects to be.  Some of them were meant for family members and I'm meant to finish them.  (Unfortunately, although she told me which projects those were it was in 2007 I can't remember which projects are which.  At all.)  I estimate that my dear MIL left over 100 UFOs.  At various times that estimate has been as high as 300 depending on my state of mind.  She also left a ton of nearly finished quilts.  Several that only need binding, several that need to be quilted, a couple in the midst of being hand quilted. Hand quilted?  Really?
Deep breath.  Slow and steady wins the race, right?