I'm a little embarrassed to admit how cluttered my house had become. When the bed in the spare room is filled four feet high with items that need to be thrown away or put somewhere, it's time for action. When the kitchen counters hold everything from three weeks worth of mail to books that need to be read to recipes I used for the past six weeks, it's time for action.

That's exactly what happened when my daughter came home from college for the holidays. Action. She's young, she's energetic, she's an organizer, and she hates clutter. I used to be like that; then I got older.

Emphatically after dinner one night, she stated: "Mom, I am tired of looking at this mess. Tonight, we clean!"

With her face set to accomplish mission impossible, she began clearing off the counters and demanding, yes, demanding that I make a decision about what to throw away, what to save and where to put what I saved; out of sight, preferably. I have to admit, she was good for my soul and my kitchen counters that night. In no time at all, the counters were clear, the trash can was full, and everything else was in its place, out of sight.

The next day, with a gleam of "you ain't seen nothin' yet" in her eye, she turned to the spare bedroom.

"Mom! This is ridiculous." I hung my head in shame. "WHAT are you doing with all of this stuff just piled up on this bed? How can you possibly know what's here and what you're supposed to do with it?" I hung my head lower.

We began our archaeological dig on the bed with earnest. Within five minutes, I was focusing on something else. "Mom! Focus! Keep your eyes on this bed until we get it cleared. Then, and only then can we begin another task!"

She had discovered one problem. My aging brain has become more fragmented than it has ever been. I'm guilty. I start one task and end up participating in six, never making any progress or finishing the first task. And then I have to lie down and rest for a bit, because I'm so busy getting nothing accomplished. It's exhausting!

I cleared my mind and focused once again on the bed at hand. Clothes. Hang them up, put them in the clothes hamper, or take them to the cleaners. What's that book? "Mom, that's the book I read two years ago for college. What is it doing here?" Aha! All the clutter is not mine! One small victory. In the trash it went.

Old pictures. "Mom! When are you ever going to organize your pictures? What's the point of having a camera, taking pictures, printing them and then just tossing them on the bed?"

Another problem. Procrastination.

It's been eight years since I placed a photograph in an album. I used to be very prompt and creative about that. But then. Let's see. What happened to interrupt that process? Oh yeah, I remember. There was a teenager in the house! Activity after activity after activity. Football games. Basketball games. Dances. Supper on the run. Fast times at Murray household. Perhaps that was the beginning of the fragmenting of my brain. I have to admit, though, it was way beyond time to start to piece it back together.

I sorted the pictures, filed them in envelopes and my daughter bought two photo albums with sleeves so that I can slip the photos in quickly. No creativity required. I'm already up to 2001; only six more years to go!

I received some very nice Christmas gifts this year, but the best of all was the young, energetic, clutter-hating organizer! She's put me on the straight and narrow again. I just hope I can stay there.

Harris Murray is director of library services at Orangeburg-Calhoun Technical College. She can be reached by e-mail at writeharris55@yahoo.com. Discuss this and other stories online at TheTandD.com.

You must be logged in to comment.