If She Only Had An (Organized) Brain

Shhh. I have a secret, that I don’t like to get out.

Well, in all honesty, anyone that knows me pretty well, realizes that my secret is hardly one. I’ve actually written about this open secret on more then one occasion. Its just one that I can’t easily hide from myself, much less others.

Of course that secret is my amazing ability to lose stuff that goes neatly along with my complete knack of staying  just disorganized enough that I don’t know where stuff is.

Fortunately for me the things that I lose are usually the ones we all lose on occasion, my cell phone, my blue tooth my sunglasses, my car keys. But I lose other things too. Like the little post-it notes that I had on my computer monitor with important things written on them. They are nowhere to be found.  I will likely find them, one day, pressed in between the pages of one of the notebooks I use to write down creative ideas for story topics, grocery lists or phone numbers I need to jot down right that moment.  I have about six  notebooks in various degrees of disarray in my house, and at least one legal pad languishing in my car. They give testament to the flurried activity levels that keep the exercise wheel powered brain of mine running smoothly. Oh yeah, a squad of over caffeinated, but highly unionized squirrels,  keep that wheel humming, but only on Wednesdays and Fridays, between the hours of 7 P.M, and 1:46 A.M.

I am trying to get a bit better organized. At work, I keep my work area, neat, and get frustrated when I get so busy that I can’t clean things up as quickly as I’d like. At home, well, not so much. Maybe its because I was once a hummingbird in a former life, flittering from flower to flower in my garden on a quest to get as much sugar into my emerald green body as I could before sundown.

In this life, I follow a similar pattern at home. I Start a load of laundry, sit down at my desk to sip a cup of coffee,check email, see a ad for lazyboy recliners, remember I need to buy milk, start a grocery list, pick up items off the floor that a cat has knocked of my desk, do a food bowl check, clean out the litter boxes, feel the need to go to the bathroom, realize the bed hasn’t been made on my way to the bathroom, use said facilities, notice the sad shape of my home pedicure. The next thing I know I am picking out nail polishes from my basket. The whole process you just read took about a half hour. I have completely forgotten to turn on the washing machine, or where I left my coffee cup.

I am currently in the process of submitting some of the pieces I have written to various publishers in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, someone will like what I have created enough to not only publish the piece, but actually pay me. As I have a lot of material either on my computer, stored on an external hard drive, or still in work in progress mode in one of my notebooks, organization is a must. I know how, basically to keep track of things. Or better yet, I have a general idea where most of my finished writing projects can be found. I just need to categorize them better, and do some purging. I may get it all neatly configured one day. I will certainly make more then a few honest attempts, several half-hearted ones, which will all lead to the inevitable, “oh the heck with this, I’ll do it later” cop-out.

I am not exactly sure if other people, somewhat creative like myself have the tendency to be somewhat disorganized with certain aspects of their lives or not. I just know that I find myself thus. It can be frustrating, especially when I discover that where I thought I put something I’d need later is nowhere near where I remembered putting it, OR if I put it there to begin with. When that happens, I look everywhere I can think an item may be in my quest to find the needed and now missing item. I usually find it, eventually, most of the time.

As you can tell, the state of item limbo, exists quite strongly in my presence. I just wish they’d stop queuing the music while lowering that damned bar.


2 Replies to “If She Only Had An (Organized) Brain”

  1. I thought for a moment that it was my life that was bring described, and I am a 70 year-old retired schoolteacher. You have a way of writing that relates to the common person on so many levels. Because you poke fun at yourself, you do not put the reader on guard. You get your message across without making the reader squirm and feel too guilty.


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