It's not an organizational problem... it's a swoooosh-playing-with-my-lego-thing-oops-a-piece-shattered-off-and-I-can't-find-it problem.
And then later, the lego piece waits for nightfall, and crawls out from the dark nook to the middle of the most inconvenient walkway for its moment to strike.
Thanks to LEGO I learned that the callus on your ankle is layered like an onion.
I had far too many LEGOs as a kid, and left them around my room like a minefield. Did I step on one? Oh, no. I was jumping on my bed and jumped off when told to stop by my parents and unfortunately one ankle landed on the corner of a LEGO building I had made. A structure build like a little plastic brick shithouse, apparently. The corner gouged a nice right angle cleft out of my ankle a couple inches long. Hurt like the dickens!
I first stepped on my own LEGO bricks (usually blue bricks that were part of some space station). Now, I equally proudly step on the bricks owned by my offspring. It's wonderful that some fascination transcends generations.
Significantly less than one; probably just roughly a cubic hectometer at most. A cubic kilometer corresponds to about 1.6 x 10^15 1x1 Lego blocks, so over a quadrillion. 600 billion is only 0.6 x 10^12.