Having already written that my life is a blivet (in traditional US Army slang, slang dating back to WWII, a blivet was defined as "ten pounds of manure in a five pound bag"). I struggle to cram my life into some order and containment. I discover my desk is a mare's nest. (The original sense of the term was: a false discovery since clearlya mare doesn't have a nest. Nowadays the term implies a confused situation.) Some people have accused me of mild OCD because I actually like things put away properly (mainly so that I can find them again) and don't mind hours of data entry to make some of this possible. Others who watch my constant motion know I have ADD and, in order to find anything again in my life, I have to put things in proper places. Life doesn't seem normal anymore if I am not looking for something that has been lost in the house. My conviction that there are poltergeists here does not convince others.
One of my dreams is that someday I will be able to have a clean desk before me every time I sit down. I delude myself, thinking that I can emulate a few people whom I have admired in life who have won gold medals at clean desk contests. I really know the only way I will see a clean desk is to find someone who has one and look at it until I can imagine mine looking the same. When I learned what a clean desk takes, I'm not so sure I will ever achieve it. It takes making immediate decisions about what to throw away instead of piling heaps of "I'll look at that later" as the ringing phone interrupts. The stuff then reappears much later, having been moved yet again for a party or to make room for some other pile, until it gets found when it is no longer relevant. I believe I have just finished with the year 2003 pile. It takes stopping what you are doing in time (meaning before your nose hits the keyboard from exhaustion) to file things where they belong every day...frightening thought, even though some of them try to commit suicide by leaping into the circular file. It takes having a place to write things, instead of on little slips of paper, when someone is spitting out a telephone number or address at bullet speed. I usually neglect to write to whom it belongs, thus rendering it more useless information lying about.
If I could sit outside myself and watch the two warring urges, my compulsiveness fighting with my ADD, I might enjoy it more. As my years advance, I force myself to think of what I faced as other elders in my life left messes behind. I spent months going through the detritus they left, obviously compulsively giving in to the fear that I might toss something important to them or they wouldn't have saved it. I assure myself that my children will have no such problem. They will back up a dumpster, throw all my stuff in, and I will never know the difference!
2 comments:
Most of my co-workers and colleagues still shake theit heads in wonder when they see me cleam my desk. I was given a shredder about a year ago and make very good use of it.
Then again, the definition of a "clean desk" probably varies from profession to profession.
There is always a legalpad sized patch of wood directly under the monitor...but that's all that's guaranteed :). The rest of the desk has neatly stacked piles of who knows what. If a pile hasn't been poked through in a few weeks it goes to the drawer in the conference room. If it stays in the drawer for more than a week it then goes to the shredder.
Gotta make room for all these never ending piles somehow.
Chris, my Eagle Scout, you have always been neat and tidied up. I was born a clutterer and will die a clutterer. No matter how hard I try after I have cleaned it up, my workspace (wherever I am) will be cluttered in no time. One day I will post a picture if I can get over the shame of the sight.
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