Organized? I’ve read all the articles; I know all the rules. In some areas of my life, I succeed. By the door are 2 terra cotta
white wine chillers. They were gifts from some people who know I drink
wine, but didn’t pay attention to one small detail. I only drink red
wine. I found that their absorptive nature makes them the perfect
container for wet umbrellas.
Also by the door is a
waist-high 3-shelf bookcase of sorts I found at a yard sale. The top
shelf has holds a carved wooden dish. This holds keys, sunglasses,
outgoing mail and coupons, my hats…
The
next shelf has two doors to conveniently and discretely hold my purse
and anything else personal or messy hidden from view (the cat treats
reside there- Jazmine’s toll charged each day before I'm permitted to leave for work).
The third shelf holds anything that needs to go out door with me the next day: library books to drop off, magazines to pass along, etc. The big red bowl holds the smaller stuff.
The bottom shelf holds books I’m currently reading, and the small space beneath it is where I kick off my shoes on entering
Each day, I open the little door, dole out a treat to Jazmine, grab my purse, toss anything outgoing into a carry bag
and I’m out the door. Each day, on my return, I doff the hat, toss
keys, sunglasses into the dish, tuck the purse behind its door, kick the
shoes under the bottom shelf, pick up Jazmine and head toward the kitchen.
This
part of my life is organized to the point of ritual. But, other areas
of my life just flat defy organization. My studio is one of them. My
writing space is another. Organization here is a carrot in the dangling
just out of reach. No matter how I try, I never quite reach it. But
I’m working on it.
© Perle Champion
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