My Dirty Little Secret

My office is very clean, at the moment. This is in direct response to the directive from my boss that all staff members must present a professional office space to visitors. There will be inspections on Monday.  Apparently there will be prizes for most improved, best Feng shui, even least improved. Gifts were not the incentive for me, if so I might have done nothing and been the obvious winner of the booby prize for "no change." I instead took this an opportunity to organize my environment and to prepare myself for a few messy months ahead. Heading in to the insanity of November and December with a clean desktop has to be a good thing.

I have to come clean and tell you that I am messy. To those of you who have moved assorted boxes just to sit across from me, this is not a surprise. I usually blame the clutter on my co-workers who leave anything and everything behind my office door. As the Visual Arts director and ad-hoc party planner, almost anything seems to fall into the "give it to Jill" category.  My work space is the last stop for everything from party supplies to holiday decorations; every morning offers a potential discovery of a new pile of "what do I do with that?" Little by little I let things accumulate until I am out of desk top, counter top, even the floor. I do have access to an art closet, but I recently relinquished half to another department and it is also home to various electrical supplies, so there is not an abundance of storage space available. It is also down the hall from my actual office (used to be right next door until I moved) and somehow those extra few steps prolong the amount of time something collects dust in my office vs. the storage shelves. All of this is really just a rationalization for the fact that I am more than a little organizationally challenged. I feel better and work better in a clutter free world, but I have trouble maintaining the management of the mess. Even now, as members walk by my newly sparkling space, opening even one desk drawer would expose my secret sloppy side. My colleagues are well aware that all my drawers are "junk drawers", just ask me for a pencil or a tape measure and you'll witness the chaos within. I dream about the day when a pull on the handle releases a desk tray with clearly identifiable supplies and files with visible color coded tabs, but it won't be this week. The edict was to clean what members’ see, not what they don't, can't change the rules now. My office is also one of the first you see when entering the executive wing, and the doorway that unfamiliar visitors stop to ask for directions, thus my impression is often the first impression. My door is almost never closed, without a window I feel like I'm locked in a closet when it is, and I am not one to shy away from random conversations with whoever walks by. It could be that the whole idea behind the center wide clean up could be just for me, but I've seen a few others that could use some work.

My office is unfortunately indicative of most of my other personal spaces. My closet is something that only a select few get to see, it is my dirty little secret. In my old house I blamed it on a shared space with Jeffrey that wasn't big enough for either of us, and he is no neatnik.  When we built the new house I reconfigured the original blue prints to accommodate my plan for a perfectly organized home for my clothes. Jeffrey got his own space, a fraction of mine, but he was happy to be free of my closet madness. It's probably the size of a small bedroom, no fancy wood built-ins, I'm not sure I'm deserving based on past performance. I vowed that when I kept it clean for a while I would reward myself with finer accoutrements. So far I'm still working with white wire shelving, haven't been able to justify the investment yet. Every month or so I dig in and it looks ok for a while, but one bad day of "can't decide what to wear" can lead to a slippery slope of piles and empty hangers. I have even started to infringe on the unclaimed closet space in the other bedrooms in an effort to manage the overload, but it doesn't seem to have an impact. I have trouble eliminating any excess. Perhaps I have an unnatural attachment to my clothing, but I can't seem to say goodbye to much. I have distinct memories of where I wore each dress, or where I bought every top, which outfits were "feel good" choices, and which ones looked good in pictures. They don't just live there for the flashbacks, I actually wear most of what hangs there, if not this year then next. I do get rid of obvious fashion no-no's (excessive pleats, too high waists, sizes that are way too small or way too big), but the rest is fair game for future use. I've been holding pretty steady at the same weight for a while now, so there are virtually no "when I lose 5 pounds" items and I made a conscious effort to toss the "fat" clothes when I decided I would not let myself need them again. I have tried every closet organizational method, but I can't pare down to the essentials; I will always need more than one pair of black pants. The rest of my house is generally in better shape, or at least what any guest would see. My closet is my own cross to bear, and unlike my office, only I have to suffer its consequences.

I am not a slob in my personal appearance, in fact I am pretty meticulous in that regard. I am not a messy eater; hate to have a dirty face or hands. I hide my messy underneath a fairly well kept exterior; most people would never suspect the disaster within.  I think that makes me a "closet" slob, both literally and figuratively. My parents were fastidious, both in our house and their personal appearance. I guess neatness must skip a generation, or two, judging by my boys housekeeping skills. I figure that in the realm of character flaws, messy is one I'm willing to live with, and to quote Albert Einstein, if a cluttered desk signs a cluttered mind, Of what, then, is an empty desk a sign? We all know my mind is not an empty place, so I vote for clutter.

Newer research even suggests a few piles here and there may be beneficial. Authors Eric Abrahamson and David H. Freedman's book, A Perfect Mess: The Hidden Benefits of Disorder - How Crammed Closets, Cluttered Offices, and on-the-Fly Planning Make the World a Better Place, illustrate through various case studies the useful role mess can play in business and personal lives. Abrahamson and Freedman demonstrate that the moderately messy use resources more efficiently and often yield better more creative solutions. I think I have reached the perfect compromise at work and at home: neat desk and messy drawers, tidy house and sloppy closet; my personal Ying and Yang of organization. I may in fact win the prize for "most improved" office, but the trophy won't stay on the shelf for long. Give it a few months and it will be lost amidst new piles and un-filed paperwork.