People who know me only through my writings imagine many things: I'm blonde (sorry dark here), I'm tall and thin (hopefully), and above all, I am naturally organized, ordered and frugal. That noise you hear is laughter, and it is those who know me best: my husband, my daughter and son. They know the truth: I played hooky the day the organization of innate ability and financial skills have been delivered.
I'm not organized, naturally, but I've learned to be by crook. I know the exact day I started my journey to an organized house: December 25, 1983. It was then that I realized that I had a problem with clutter and chaos, and I had to find a way to create an orderly and happy
house for my family and me.
It was the afternoon of Christmas Day. Recently divorced, had sent my two children to spend the day with her father, so I visited my mother's house for Christmas dinner. But when I got home late at night, broken glass littered the porch. Someone had tried to break into my house while I was out!
I called the police and waited, shivering on the porch.
An officer responded, approached the house cautiously, and went into my door. A few minutes later, he came out, scratching his head. "Lady," he said, "I do not understand.
Your bolt out, and the door will not open, but someone came in and trashed up. "
Guilty secret:
Embarrassed heat flooded my face. "No," I protested, "it's just how I left it!"
The officer looked at me intently. "You know what it's like up there?"
To my great shame, I did. The two pieces that served as my home office, bedroom, and sewing were wrinkled knees in photocopies, notebooks, scraps of fabric, clothes scattered envelope holidays, stacked files, spilled coffee and dirty dishes . Dust corners flowers, and winding through the clutter of the islands of my office and narrow road bed.
New command:
I'm not organized, naturally, but I've learned to be by crook. I know the exact day I started my journey to an organized house: December 25, 1983. It was then that I realized that I had a problem with clutter and chaos, and I had to find a way to create an orderly and happy
house for my family and me.
It was the afternoon of Christmas Day. Recently divorced, had sent my two children to spend the day with her father, so I visited my mother's house for Christmas dinner. But when I got home late at night, broken glass littered the porch. Someone had tried to break into my house while I was out!
I called the police and waited, shivering on the porch.
An officer responded, approached the house cautiously, and went into my door. A few minutes later, he came out, scratching his head. "Lady," he said, "I do not understand.
Your bolt out, and the door will not open, but someone came in and trashed up. "
Guilty secret:
Embarrassed heat flooded my face. "No," I protested, "it's just how I left it!"
The officer looked at me intently. "You know what it's like up there?"
To my great shame, I did. The two pieces that served as my home office, bedroom, and sewing were wrinkled knees in photocopies, notebooks, scraps of fabric, clothes scattered envelope holidays, stacked files, spilled coffee and dirty dishes . Dust corners flowers, and winding through the clutter of the islands of my office and narrow road bed.
New command:
That night, face the truth: I had a problem. I wanted to raise my children in a clean and comfortable place, but the place looked like a crime scene. He needed to know what to do, how to do and when to do to create the organized home my children and I deserved it.
The next day I started looking in libraries and bookstores for advice. I read books. I tried many different methods of organization. I learned and I started planning and household chores cleaning program in the same way that my professional activities.
Gradually, I learned to conquer clutter, clean the house, and run an organized home.
Did it work? Fast forward five years until September 1988.
Met a young student in the library of the School of Medicine last week, and this was to be our first date. My house was clean and tidy. My school-age children were having dinner on the table in the kitchen, as neat and tidy as it was in his nature to be. Everything was fine when I opened the door.
My date followed me into the kitchen for coffee preparation, and to my surprise, I began to wonder about my calendar, my tickler file, information and family center. I showed my list, my cleaning program, including small note with the date and time of our appointment.
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