I'm not lazy, just obsessive.
I didn't get very far with my intended project to purge just one lousy file drawer out of an estimated 10. Estimated because I wasn't sure if I should count three extra cartons of "important" papers. Sure, I've considered just dumping their contents into the recycle bin, but then I might toss some gem of an idea I wanted never to forget.
So, not counting those cartons (and pretending we did), let's get back to the first drawer. Three remarkable events aligned to finally give me a push:
- I was between projects. Or rather, the other 39 projects were still jockeying for the lead.
- I'd just finished hunting down lesson plans in this particular drawer, so had a fresh idea of what I might actually use this decade.
- And miraculously, the pingpong table was momentarily clear.
OK, down to business. I removed all 39 linear inches of files. Once everything was splayed out, I attempted to categorize the more than 80 files into broader groupings and laid them out under bright color-labeled cards. For me this meant: beading, design aids, drawing, fiber arts, etc., on down to weaving and woodworking. Granted, this wouldn't work if one only needed to alphabetize clients, but a "broad categories" concept is helpful.
Next, the time-consuming but amusing task of looking through each file and considering the contents: Sunset magazine clippings from the 1980s? My god, look at those outfits. Torn-out pictures of beaded garments I'll never make or wear. Occasionally I found some lasting gem of inspiration and decided to tuck it into a book of the related subject. No book? Forget it. That meant no lasting interest.
All the while, I kept glancing at my favorite printed-out mantra, gleaned from some organizing guru or another: "What is this? Why would I want to keep this? When would I ever need it? Where would I look for it? Who else might have it?"
The recycling bin kept filling as I realized I could find an updated version of this online. It made me fantasize about the next generation. What organizing albatrosses will they have to bear instead of printed pages? Think about it.
And duplicates. Why in the world did I make four color copies of one set of split-loom necklaces?
Formerly, each of my individual project files also had its own hanging file for convenience. A well-meant expenditure gone afoul. So, out with 70 individual hanging files. But this saved me 5 linear inches. Later, my simpler solution.
While inner files of still-current projects and ideas formed shorter and thinner keeper stacks, items that didn't fit anywhere went out in the middle of the table.
Well into all this but growing weary, it was time for a treat. I drove to my favorite office supply store to buy some new wider file labels, and I actually purchased two cartons of new manila folders. After years of scribbling over or turning around beat up ones, I deserved new.
Back home, even though I wasn't done with purging, I started the re-installation. You know those box bottom files? I had a few of those around and discovered that several clean, new manila files easily fit into one box file under one wide category label, which I hand-printed on colored paper. And instead of using all three tab positions inside each box, I stuck with one - right, left or middle. So, where am I now? Well, I missed a social engagement I was really looking forward to last night trying to finish the first drawer.
I've perused the orphaned items in the middle of the table and tossed most.
A still-critical step will be to print out a color-coded index of the broad categories with their sub-files to keep in a plastic sleeve in the front of the drawer.
Maybe I'll print this and all the labels on the computer someday, but it's already looking 90 percent better. And I'm about 50 percent done because I've emptied out the second drawer.
Jeanne Leffingwell, artist and teacher, is attempting to lighten up without moving or dying. She can be reached at jeanneleffingwell4@gmail.com.
