A place for everything and everything in its place...

I don't know if my mother taught me this adage- but is was certainly something she practiced. Growing up, public places in our home were not allowed to be cluttered. School bags were not left in the dining room, opened Christmas gifts did not sit very long under the tree- "Take these to your room!" was a common phrase uttered by Mom. Our house was lived in, but you would not have known it. Now, my father's office and the storage 1/2 of the basement were another story. My dad is a pack rat. He thrives amidst clutter, piles and stacks. On his desk is a plaque that says, "A cluttered desk is the sign of a brilliant mind". My mother would often just shut his office door as to not have to look at or nag about his piles. We always knew when he had counseling sessions because minutes before they would arrive, he would be busily straightening his piles and cleaning up for company. My mom would let me room go so long until she would forbid me any fun until it was clean. Many a time, Alicia would come and "help" me so that we could go out when it was finished.

As I grow older, I realize I am more like my father than I thought. Everyone says I'm like my mom. We talk the same, laugh heartily, thrive on social events, love and hurt deeply. But for those who know my dad and I really well, they would attest that I'm a lot more like my dad. I have his teeth, skin (oh why could I not have had my mother's clear olive skin?), unemotional responses, stubborn nature and his seemingly disorganized organized clutter. Oh why could I have not also had his metabolism???

I like order- I love organization. It just always seems that my living quarters are always much smaller than the space necessary to contain all my belongings. Call me a shop-a-holic, pack rat, a saver- I don't know. I'm not a collector of knick-knacks. I love books, music, movies, photos, crafts and strangely enough office supplies. And they just happen to take up a lot of space. Why couldn't I be obsessed with paper clips or stamps- you know something small and compact?

Since traveling to Haiti, this has become an area of conviction. I'm realizing more and more how much of life is consumed with "stuff" that is meaningless in the grand scheme. With each move, boxes are taken to The Salvation Army, trash bags are heaped in the dumpster, items given away. No longer do I buy with the "I'll use this someday...". With each item in an item must go out. I'm growing more digital- files, pictures and music. Borrowing from the library or Blockbuster Online versus purchasing. I browse organizational magazines for ideas and dream of the day when I will have my own place to work their magic.

Until then, I sort and pack away. Find nooks and crannies for everything. If I can start off organized, I'll be able to maintain it. But, I don't get to upset when I falter. I will never be my mother- so neat and orderly. I won't be like some of my friends (mainly Alicia) who have the innate ability to part unemotionally with items. Everyday, I will just try a bit harder to maintain order, wisely use my resources and in the end enjoy the things that are so special to me.

I've finished all I'm going to do with my unpacking. The living room is cleared (minus the computer I need a box for). Books and clothes are put away, suitcases and items for Haiti have been moved to the basement. There are a four boxes that I don't know what to do with at the moment and I don't have the gumption to deal with. They will just have to wait until things die down a bit (mainly until VBS is over). I can live with that. And- the door to my room can be shut if anyone has a problem with it!