Organization, Oh God, Organization!

Organization, Oh God, Organization

Right at the outset, I can tell you that I'm a big fan of organization. I love the feeling of being able to put my fingers on whatever I --or anyone else--wants, be it information, a lost object, or even an ingredient for a recipe. It's my superpower. And, as a mom, a wife, a teacher, a room mother, or just about anything else in my panoply of jobs, it is invaluable.

What they don't tell you when you sign on for this skill is that, instead of getting easier with practice, it gets harder. The volume of information increases exponentially, while memory capacity declines with each passing year. I am, to put it succinctly, losing it, just when I need it most. And when I say "when I need it most", I am speaking of the process of downsizing.

One ought to be able to express these things mathematically: number of years, size of house, number of storage spaces, number of people involved, acquisitiveness factors--all should fit into an equation that will quantify your level of 'stuff' organization with a nice, scientific, reliable number. I regret to say we are operating in the negative values, and have been for some time. The term 'absolute zero' comes to mind, which is about as low as low can go. It is the the point at which the fundamental particles of nature have minimal vibrational motion, retaining only quantum mechanical, zero-point energy-induced particle motion. In other words, everything stops. 

So, poised on the brink of paralysis, I am taking drastic measures. Drawing on my experience of teaching Franklin/Covey's What Matters Most, I have dragged out my planner and made three lists of goals: immediate, short-term, and long-term. "Immediate" is one step better than my weekly shopping list genetically crossed with my daily 'to-do' list. "Short Term" is stuff I need to do this month, like plan for our vacation with the grandkids, switch out winter clothes for summer clothes, take clothes to storage at the dry cleaners, plant stuff in my patio pots.  "Long-Term" is that mountain of tasks on the horizon that gets closer every day: replacing the car, installing a new fence on the patio, buying a new refrigerator in San Diego, getting the fireplace fixed... If you are unfamiliar with Franklin/Covey, you might need to know that their mantra is "Someday is not a day on the calendar." They espouse planning, above all. Putting small steps on your daily calendar that will lead to accomplishment of your goals. There will be lists; there will be check-offs. There will be progress, and that is what matters most.

In reality, to our credit, we've paid a visit to the storage space and hauled out two Subaru-loads of stuff, half of which went to the dump, the other half to a stack of boxes in the basement. We HAVE hit the DMV and acquired our REAL-IDs. We have taken winter clothes to the cleaners for storage. The trick is not to rest on those meager laurels; not to stop the process as soon as the lists are made, which is what I usually do. (I've WRITTEN about it; now, do I really have to DO it?)

Franklin/Covey's 'one step at a time' should take us from this overflowing house of collections (large and small) to a more streamlined life where I will once again know where things are. Marie Kondo will be our patron saint, and joy will be sparking all over the place, as our trash bins and donation buckets overflow, and our closets and bookshelves and dresser drawers empty.

Yeah. Right.