Now we tackle the desk. The goal is to sort objects, using Lorie's
"Action, Reference, or Trash" system. Everything to be kept,
including staples and every scrap of paper, is then categorized as
A, B, C, or D. The A and B stuff will stay around my desk
(
Ace and
Best?). C and D stuff goes upstairs to a
filing cabinet or bookshelves.
Clutter and
Detritus,
say.
From one desk we extract four mail bins of extraneous C and D
stuff. With the help of Lorie's handy-dandy label maker, where her
fingers dance like
Fred Astaire's feet, we file the important
papers, shelve the important books, create a spot for supplies. My
desk is a thing of simple beauty. I wonder if I can work there.
As Lorie leaves, I am on fire with the love of organization. Which
is a good thing, because she left me a list of about 10 more things
to do and a dozen things to buy. I consider staying up late to
create C and D files or shelve C and D books (how can Faulkner be
Detritus?). Instead, I go to sleep and dream that my uncle has come
over to categorize my bookshelves. (All golf books,
here!)
For most of the next day, despite the presence of the temporary
personal assistant I'll describe next, I organize. I can't walk
past an unruly drawer without applying "Action, Reference, or
Trash" to it. I sort my daughter's school papers and artwork, and
store them in bins Lorie told me to buy. I sort crayons from
markers from pencils. I shelve C and D books. In a forgotten milk
crate I find the Filofax I've been hunting for for the last two
days because it's one of those yet-to-be-synchronized address
books. I find my daughter's lost birth certificate. I toss a lot of
junk into a trash bag.
Since I started outsourcing, I've filled two large garbage
cans.
The unalphabetized, uncategorized bookshelves annoy me.