Why I Love Mess and Organization Equally
Or how to fall in love with a closet
This image brings me a satisfying sense of joy.
Not just because it is a well-organized closet but because this is MY well-organized closet and because, up until last week, it was a jumbled cacophony of craft supplies, extra notebooks and binders, files, boxes of old photos, and “really good” containers I was saving for just the right task.
This curtain has remained open since I got this closet in my office cleaned out because ever so often during the day, I stand in front of it smiling, soothed by its orderliness. It is truly Zen.
I can appreciate an organized cubby anywhere, but I only feel this deep sense of satisfaction when I have been the one to take it from chaos to calm. When the closet has been a mess for years, and I have finally arranged it into something workable. This is my closet. There are many like it, but this one is mine…
(Sorry for the free-associative digression into the Rifleman’s Creed which I only know because of Full Metal Jacket. Like a Hail Mary or Our Father, it’s strangely, intentionally hypnotic.)
And now, because I went and watched that Full Metal Jacket scene, my brain has wandered off to ponder the authoritarian nature of the US military and how it may have been useful in wartime but becomes toxic when applied to everyday domestic life. At the same time, I’m wondering how many people know the Rifleman’s Creed outside of that movie or would have to look it up like I did because I lead a life fairly well divorced from wartime psychological tactics…
ANYWAY, BACK TO CLOSETS!
That closet and my office in general cycle through eras of mess and Marie Kondo-like organization because, while I love a place for everything and everything in its place, I am also compelled to collect things. Like a magpie, I’m drawn to detritus that is shiny or potentially useful. Things I am prone to hoarding:
Books; blank notebooks; extra school supplies; the good coffee cans with screw-on lids; small, well-constructed cardboard boxes; puzzles; stickers; scraps of colorful cloth; and broken things I might fix one day/never and can’t bear to throw away.
None of those boxes and cans in the lower left of the closet house anything, yet. But they have thick sides or unique clasps and could be redecorated as gift boxes or used to house other, small hoarded treasures — interesting rocks, for example. Those plastic, primary-colored drawers that used to hold my kids’ Legos now conceal an exciting array of foam and wooden shapes, stick-on letters, glitter, google eyes and sequins.
I carted many bags of stuff out to the trash and to Goodwill to make this space the oasis it is now.
The other reason my closet and office, thus purged, prompts such happiness is, did I mention? This space is MINE. The rest of the family wanders in here occasionally to find a pencil or use the printer, but this is the only space in the house that is as messy or as clean as I want to keep it.
I love that my kids play soccer in the house — really. I love to see them being active, doing something they love and interacting with each other in a natural, positive way. AND it is nice to have my office as a space free of wandering soccer balls and other people’s chargers, mail and homework. In here, all the crap cluttering the desk is mine to move, reorganize or throw away as I see fit without consulting anyone. The kids have their rooms, Jason has the garage, and this office is mine. There are many like it…Shit, stop that, brain!
See those books all alike on the right side of the second shelf?
That’s my first novel, The Way It’s Supposed to Be, published this past July. I put it there so I would see it, so I wouldn’t forget about it. So I would remember that accomplishment and be motivated to keep promoting the book (because I have over 100 author copies to unload.)
This round of organization was more than practical.
Organizing previously jumbled closets, shelves or junk drawers is always satisfying, but this time around I had an additional goal — to put what’s most central to me, here in this office space, at the forefront. That second shelf, right at eye level, is full of writing inspiration: prompt books, notebooks with scrawled story ideas, and reminders of the hard work I’ve already done to spur me on in the future. (And a can of extra trampoline springs because where else am I going to keep those? It’s a good, weighty bookend, too.)
The Wheel of Time will continue to turn.
In a few years, this closet will likely be a mess again. I’ll decide to cram in a few too many extra picture frames or wickless candles that still have good wax in them, and the organized bins will turn into toppling piles until I get fed up and get out the trash bags. Maybe next round, I’ll decide something else needs to be on that eye-level shelf.
I’ve gotten much more comfortable with failure — seeking publication will do that to a person — but this is not that. This revamping of space is not a failure to stay organized, but a natural cycle that encourages me to re-evaluate my priorities. Right now, I value the colorful scraps of paper in the plastic bin on the bottom shelf — might do some collage work with them. Or maybe I’ll throw it out next year in favor of some other craft idea. I like the potential. I like that those things are there waiting if, on some rainy day, I get an urge to Mod Podge the scraps to some of those boxes. And I like that, unlike my to-do lists, there’s no pressure to actually ever do that.
The eye-level shelf is for creative priorities, the bottom one for creative side projects I might not ever do. I share this because, honestly, I’ll take any excuse to talk about my closet in its current lovely, blissful state. But, if you’re in a place of re-org, too, maybe it’ll inspire you to go beyond the practical and think about what you really want front and center in your life closet.
Okay, yeah, really I just wanted to geek out on my organizational skills. Thanks for indulging me.