Organizing is the best medicine

It's been making me uneasy for some time now. At night, I lay awake thinking about it. During the day, I'm so overwhelmed by the thought of beginning, I avoid it completely. I can't put it off anymore. The clutter of my desk drawers & office closet has reached a breaking point, and I just can't function until I get things organized.

This urge to file and sort is something I get from my mom. I can here her now..."A place for everything, and everything in it's place." Such a lofty goal, isn't it? To find somewhere to put every item, and make sure those items stay in their assigned seats. I'm pretty good about this most of the time; I rarely let mail pile up, and usually, there is an empty hook waiting on whatever scarf I might be wearing. My weakness is clothes. When I shuck off my outfit for the day, it typically stays wherever it landed for several days, until the pile is too large to ignore, at which point my pick-up-the-house frenzy begins, and I don't rest until everything is right where it needs to be.

I haven't always been like this. In high school, you were lucky to be able to walk across my bedroom floor. College saw very little improvement; once my bed was piled so high with who knows what, I crashed in JoEllen's bed...that is, until she came back from her weekend away, at which point I just shoved the mass onto the floor and ignored it until it was time to move out. Something changed when I got married, however. It wasn't an overnight switch, but something in me said, "You're an adult now. It's time to make up your bed." And so, I did. And I still do...make up the bed, straighten the pillows on the couch, clear the clutter on the kitchen counter. It's not perfect, but tidy enough that if someone were to come over to our house at any given point, I would feel comfortable with the state of my house, and no one would have to step over a mess.

So, don't ask me how my office got to this point. My office is usually the one place that stays the tidiest, and yet here it sits like an homage to the room of my 16 year old self. I can't access most of my closet, and the pile of recycling is starting to take a life of it's own.



It's a complete mess, yet somehow I still feel right at home, as if there is a freedom in letting things sit wherever they land. I've given into this rebellion for too long, however. It's time to organize. If you need me this week, just look under a pile of cardboard or next to a stack of files. I'll probably be labeling something until there is order again.

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