Thursday, January 1, 2015

Relief Comes in a Five-Foot-Two, Blonde Package.

So, I had my initial consultation with the professional organizer. She arrived promptly at 10:00 a.m. I probably should have tidied up the office a bit, but instead, I sat my ass on the couch and watched the most horrific Hoarders re-run ever, complete with indoor rivers of poo, mold climbing the walls, holes in the roof and at least one dead cat behind a dresser.

I was so nervous when she came to the door.  I was thinking about the random trouser sock on the top of some papers on my desk, there because my Maltese found it in a pile of laundry and decided to have her way with it over Christmas.  I absent-mindedly took it away from her and it just landed on my desk somehow. Oops.  I was also thinking about the myriad of shoes under my desk.  My shoes like to have conventions under there. I really don't know what their meetings are about.  It might be why I've suddenly suffocated them with bright blue orthotics, but, really, I don't know.

I just had to breathe and deal with the fact that a PROFESSIONAL was going to assess what was going on in my 100 square feet of paper, files, socks, shoes and madness.  So, she walked in and shook my hand.  The hallway is pretty neat, so I figured I keep her there as long as possible and let her start judging me on that area first.  Everything was going fine.  I then showed her my dining room-turned-into-staff-office and pointed out all the desk organizers, mail organizers and how neat the stacks of work next to each computer. Truth be told, I had just bought those organizers the day before and neatened up the stacks the night before. Also, my paralegal and office assistant clean up after themselves. There are no random socks or shoes under the dining room table unless the Maltese brought it there. I do have to say that she was very impressed so far.  I was WINNING!

However, the inevitable had become imminent and I had put it off long enough.  It was, after all, New Years' Eve, and she probably had some massive partying to prepare for. I walked her the ten steps to my home office and held my breath.  She said, "OK."  OK? That's it? No hand to the mouth horror? No "Wow, what in Hell?" No running away screaming for mercy? Just, "OK".  

She was pretty much able to diagnose me as soon as she walked through the door.  "You are a Lawyer."  
"I'm not a Hoarder?????"
"You are Chronically Disorganized."
"OMG. OK."

And then she started pointing at things.  She pointed at my two printers.

"You need risers for those so you can put your paper underneath."

"We need to discuss your processes."

"I'm thinking you might do well with literature sorters at the back of your desk."
"OMG." I'm FURIOUSLY writing down my new shopping list of things I've never heard of before.

"What about my kid's artwork interspersed among the advance pages?"
"You need to purchase some under-the-bed storage boxes for the artwork and get it out of your office."

She's coming back in two weeks so that we can have the first of probably a few clean outs.  I asked her what I needed as far as supplies.

"Oh no, don't worry. I'll bring everything you need:  trash bags, folders and such."

Her name is Lorraine and I think I'm in love.

**If anyone on Long Island is interested in checking out Lorraine's services, just click Simply Organized Solutions