What I’m about to show you may be disturbing. Viewer discretion advised. Especially if messiness causes your brain to seize up, your blood to race, and your adrenaline to kick into overdrive.
I think it’s safe to say that organization is not my strong point.
It doesn’t come naturally to me.
I could fit in in a pigpen rather well.
That, my friends, is supposed to be my desk. The Force of denial is strong with this one.
Denial, you ask?
Here’s how this works: I am in a rush and already have about 4 things going on on top of my desk, so as I run out the door, I put that thing I need to get to later on top of the four other projects on the desk.
Later, Tom sees something in the mail for me and sets it on my desk.
I finish a book and set it on my desk.
I write a letter and set the pack of notecards on my desk.
I get codes to enter into mycokerewards, and the codes go on my desk.
I see that the dogs are scared of the storm, so I set an old blanket on my chair for them to sit in. Then I set more stuff there later- jackets, a large picture in a tube, cables.
Something comes from shutterfly and lands on my desk.
I buy organizational baskets with good intentions and leave them collecting junk on my desk.
And the stuff from the desk is about to overflow, so it also gets to sit on the floor around the desk.
I look at my desk and office space, and I see not junk, not stuff to sort through, but time. Time I need to use on so many other things being spent instead on cleaning my desk. I feel guilt that we bought this desk that I love and am not using but instead am sitting with my laptop on the couch. I feel horror that the scrapbook I need to finish for my sister is suffocating in the background of this chaos.
I stop going into the office. Because if I can’t see the desk, I don’t have to deal with it.
That is denial, Meghan-style.
It’s embarrassing but true. What always happens though, is that it gets so bad that even I can’t stand it anymore, and I HAVE to do something about it.
First, I have to sort the stuff I need from the stuff that is no longer useful thanks to how long it has been sitting there collecting dust. I put the stuff I don’t want anymore in the trash. My dogs are bewildered. “Mom? Organizing? Desk? How do these things go together? I am so confused! The world has gone mad!”
Then I take all the stuff I want to keep but need to sort through and put it on Tom’s desk in the meantime. His desk that was super organized and pristine until I started working on my desk.
Just for kicks, I leave my stuff there and call him into the office and tell him that I’ve finished the oranization and that it looks great. He half-laughs, half-moans “nooooo!” I laugh at him and I tell him that I will have his desk back to normal soon.
And when I’m done, I can actually SEE my desk again. Amazing. And there are even little labels I typed up for each of the green bins, so I know what to put where. Didn’t know I had it in me, did ya?
And the floor! There’s a floor under there!
“Hey look, Liam, there is carpet in here! It’s awesome! Let’s shed fur all over it!”
And, okay, yes, there is still a huge Victoria’s Secret bag full of books on the floor, but my shelves are full. You are welcome to come build me some new bookshelves, though!
I’m not exactly sure what’s been going on, but lately I’ve been on an organizing frenzy. I unpacked Will’s room when they moved as well as about 80% of their kitchen and dining room. I even enjoyed doing that. And before I cleaned my desk, I had tackled the pantry. Weeks before, in fact. I took everything out, sorted it into bins, and put it all back according to where I needed stuff. I’ll try to show you, though it was hard to take pictures of shelves in such a small room.
Far left wall: Hooks for cleaning stuff and for aprons. I love aprons and own many. Plus a step ladder because I am short, people. Ps-the hooks have been there for over a year, so nothing new, but I love them.
Straight ahead when you walk-in, on the bottom:
Straight ahead when you walk-in, at eye level and above:
To the right when you walk in, from the top:
To the right when you walk in, in the middle:
To the right when you walk in, on the bottom:
That’s our doggy central in the corner. It has some toys, medicines, treats, leashes, baggies, brushes, etc. If I leave the pantry door open, one of the pups will try to quietly sneak in and rummage around for a treat when I’m not looking. Usually I sneak up behind them and say their name. It’s hilarious to watch them jump straight up then back out of the pantry really fast.
For the record, having these bins to keep everything organized has made it easy to STAY organized. The thing is, I like being orderly, I just don’t usually enjoy the process of cleaning and organizing.
And that is why my mom used to tell me that no man would ever marry me if I couldn’t figure out how to keep a place clean. Apparently, you have to pass an organizational test before men will propose.
Just kidding, mom. Even though you did say that first part.
I had a plan, see? No boys were allowed in my room (except family members), so Tom could never see how bad my room looked until he would come hang out at my apartment in college. And by then, we had talked about marriage. It was a done deal.
Actually, there was no plan other than, “it’s not 1950, so you can help me do the cleaning when we get married.” (He does do some of the cleaning!)
And Tom used to get a little nervous about how messy our house would be when we got married because we are total opposites in the OCD organization category. But, to both our surprise, we’ve found that I get totally stressed out when people come to our house if it’s not clean. I’m trying to learn to just keep it clean so that I don’t care, but that’s hard to do with two shedding dogs and long work days away from the house.
Also, I’m more likely to care about the overall house being in disarray in general and am more likely to clean it. Just not my desk.
My desk belongs to me. It is not shared space, but private territory. And as such, it falls into the world of clutter every now and then.
It’s not the end of the world; I’ll clean it eventually! And I’ll even let you look at pictures of how messy I am and how much of a struggle organization is for me.
Just don’t have a heart attack.