Organizing Junkie

Photo from "The Art of Clean Up" by Ursus Wehrli

     Here's a look at my road to organizational perdition.  I hope this will serve as a cautionary tale to anyone thinking their space needs a little tweaking.  

     It's a slippery slope from ordinary tidiness to requiring matching hangars, alphabetized spices, and precision scheduling systems  NASA would envy.   

                         ---

     Hi.  I'm Susan, and I'm an Organize-aholic.  

Grocery Store-aphobia

     I never feel as alone in the Universe as I do when I'm grocery shopping.  For me, a grocery store would be the ideal setting for a horror film.  

     There's just something about the weird lighting, the narrow aisles, wide carts, and that smell of deli fried chicken.  It smells just like the chicken your grandma made...but we all know it's not even in the same culinary universe.  Does anyone even buy it? 

     Add in the long lines, uncontrollable carts, grumpy zombie-shoppers, those signs that never have the item you're looking for on them...  And the basic fact that you're engaged in a never-ending task of buying food...only to need more in a matter of days.  

     ** Sccccrrreeeeaaaammmm!!!  ** 

                         

Valentine's Day Revisited

     I've been reading through my journals and came across a piece I wrote on a Valentine's Day not long before Michael and I got together.  (So, no, this isn't about me and Michael.)  

     It's a time capsule of Valentine's past and a reminder that the most important relationship any of us has, is with ourselves.

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February 14, 1995
New York, NY

     He called this morning.

     I hadn't heard from him in months, but knew he'd call today.  Because it's Valentine's Day?  Because he likes to mess with my hard-won peace of mind?  I don't really know.

     Even though I knew he'd call, when I picked up the phone I was thinking it would be my friend, Melissa, or Carol, my neighbor,...or anyone, really, except him.

---

     I surprise myself when I answer his "Hello.", with "Don't call me anymore, okay?" I don't recognize myself; I sound like Maureen O'Sullivan-no-nonsense, serious-as-a-heart-attack.  But, then I'm not sure what to do.  I stand there staring at the blank white wall in front of me, hearing the sudden clatter of my heartbeat, and the startled silence at the other end of the line.

What Hill?

"The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time, any fool can do it, there ain't nothin' to it.  Nobody knows how we got to the top of the hill...but since we're on our way down, might as well enjoy the ride."    -James Taylor

   

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      I had dinner with a sweet, young, new-hire named Xiul (See Uhl).  We were talking about how tiring the job can be.  I told her about when I was a new-hire in New York.  I'd come in from these 10 hour all-night international flights, drag my bags through the city, and finally get to my apartment.  I remember looking up from the bottom of the four flights of stairs, wondering how I was going to get myself and my bags all the way up to my apartment.

     Xiul earnestly listened, nodded, and was, obviously, trying to picture the scene.

     She said:  "Were you skinny then?"