Getting Organized Taking Control Of All That Stuff

That room has been my nemesis. An embarrassment. A musty, dusty jumble of books, papers and Christmas ribbon. Surely a visual reminder of my own shortcomings.

Last weekend I tackled the small room adjacent to my bedroom that functions as a home office, ironing room, gift wrap center. In the process of sorting and cleaning, I discovered this room is also a repository of important pieces of myself: my memories, my history, my work.

I’ve long felt harassed by the mess. I’m finishing a master’s degree and have lacked the time to give this room much attention. Each time I walk in the door, I carefully step over a folded, faded sweater on the floor, waiting for weeks now to be mailed back to Lands’ End, and I feel a rush of irritation at the room’s constant state of neglect.

Now, finally, I was about to interview a professional organizer named Patricia McBride-Burris, and I felt a new surge of inspiration. I’d skimmed through her book, “The Struggle to Juggle,” and viewed pictures of her neatly organized and labeled cupboards. Now was my chance to dissolve my mental blocks and tackle my home office with expert help.

On the telephone from her home in Orange, Calif., Burris was upbeat, friendly and chatty. She talked for an hour and a half.

I described my piles of paper and dilemmas, and Burris leaped in with rat-a-tat-tat replies.

“You’re not alone,” she said. “That is so common. I call it ‘the mess of success.”’

In fact, Burris is convinced the ‘90s have become such a fast-paced, hightech decade that almost everyone’s messes are careening out of control.

“People wind up drowning in their stuff,” she says.

Some people, the left-brained, logical ones, are born knowing how to organize their stuff. For others, it’s an acquired skill.

Burris is one of the former. When she married her second husband in 1970 and formed a Brady Bunch household of six children, ages 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 and 13, she relied on her organizational strength to survive.

“I had to color-code the underwear,” she says. “I had to color-code the calendars. I call it creative desperation.”

Now a grandmother, Burris writes books, gives lectures and works as an in-home organizational consultant. She will give seminars called “Let’s Get Organized” Thursday and again June 3 at the Shilo Inn in Spokane.

Over the telephone, I described my approach. I started by typing a list of all the projects I needed to tackle in my office. There were 22: Clear off desktop. Throw out old magazines. Sort through old Christmas cards.

As her book recommended, I shopped for large stackable plastic storage containers with lids. I bought white labels, extra file folders, even a new bottle of spray cleaner.

I assembled all my supplies, as well as a stack of large white plastic garbage can liners for trash and Goodwill-bound items, a pen and my checklist, and I dove in.

I began by organizing my sewing supplies, tucking spools of thread and zipper feet into a new plastic container, and tossing the tattered cardboard boxes that had been driving me crazy. I felt an instant sense of satisfaction.

That propelled me to sort through the cards and letters spilling out of baskets on my desk and floor.

I lugged the baskets into the bedroom and curled up there as my children watched “Seinfeld.” I missed every last joke. I was discovering treasures:

The letters my brother wrote right after he decided to propose. To his first wife. And his second.

The startling dream my sister described that clarified so much about the two of us. The pride in my mother’s letters. My grandfather’s reassuring handwriting. A friend’s warm message of sympathy. Valentines from my husband. Handprinted letters of love from my children.

Renewed, I cleaned off the top of my desk, sorting and filing the stacks of old notes and handouts, scrubbing off the dust underneath and wiping the windowsill clean. Suddenly, I sighed. Gazing at that white expanse of possibility was as restoring as a view of Priest Lake on a summer morning.

It was a fine beginning. And when I checked with Burris, I found out it made perfect sense.

“It’s like doing a jigsaw puzzle,” she said. “You do different pieces and eventually it comes together.”

Often when I tackle my office, I bog down in a sea of old files and outdated bank statements, and abandon the project.

So I made a list of my most confounding stuff, and quizzed the expert on:

Canceled checks: Keep them only for one year, she advised. In January, pull all checks related to tax deductions or other important expenditures. File them with your tax forms or other paperwork and pitch the rest.

Bank statements: File these with checks for a year, then keep them flat in a file folder. If you’re not wedded to them, rely on the bank’s microfiche as a backup.

Pay stubs: These don’t have much value. The W-2 form you receive at the end of the year provides the most important information, and you’ll want to keep a copy in your annual tax file.

Tax files: Burris recommends keeping tax forms and documentation for five to seven years. She runs into couples who have kept them for 40. Trust her, that’s not necessary.

Cards and letters: Sentimental treasures should be kept in a plastic storage box with a lid marked memorabilia. Greeting cards also can be recycled for a worthwhile cause. Save the fronts only and mail them to St. Jude’s Ranch for Children, P.O. Box 985, Boulder City, NV 89225. Children who have been abused and neglected will use them for creative projects.

Insurance forms: File by the year. But use some discretion. Do you really need the form from Nov. 7, 1987, when your insurance company paid $35 for an exam of your daughter’s ear infection?

Magazines: Clip the articles only and file by topic. Or pitch them out completely and rely on the library.

Utility bills: If you’re into tracking your energy use, maybe you’ll want to save these for a year. Otherwise, you probably don’t need them.

Newspaper articles: Clip out the stories and file in folders marked by date or topic. Newspaper reporters may prefer to skip the file folders and go directly to giant plastic tubs.

Gift wrap: Store bows loosely in tall, flat-bottomed shopping bags to keep them from getting crushed. When possible, store gift boxes flat, or create a box of boxes. You’ll need them.

Paid bills: File by the name of the department store or credit card company, or file by the month of the year. Each year, the system will remind you to toss the previous year’s bills.

Seminar notes and handouts: Sort by topic. If a regular file folder is too small, move the whole works to a plastic storage container. This approach works well for teachers or writers who want to keep lots of information on certain topics.

As Burris talked, I could imagine the piles of confounding papers melting out of sight in my office.

One day soon, I plan to clean out the small closet in my office and stack these new, labeled plastic containers inside. I’ll organize my new files and stash them in my filing cabinet.

The room will never qualify for a photo in Architectural Digest. The sack of bows and the rolls of gift wrap will likely stay in the corner. The stacks of magazines will never completely disappear.

But already I’ve discovered the wisdom of pitching things. In one pile on my desk lay an old Newsweek - the exact issue I tracked down again at the library for a story two weeks ago.

If I can’t remember where I put things, I might as well throw them out.

The real valuables, I’ve discovered, are the priceless ones, the messages of the heart that I can never retrieve from the bank’s microfiche or the library’s new computer system.

Those have a special box of honor. Suddenly my priorities, and this mirror of an office space, are falling into place.

MEMO: This sidebar appeared with the story: WORKSHOP Pat McBride-Burris will present two Let’s Get Organized seminars, Thursday from 7 to 9 p.m. and June 3 from 9:30 to 11:30 a.m., at the Shilo Inn in Spokane. She’ll cover time and paper management, clutter control, the pack rat syndrome and space maximization. The cost is $20 in advance, $25 at the door. To register, send $20 to Busy Bee Enterprises, 2211 S. Cherry Lane, Spokane WA 99223 or fax a Visa or Mastercard number to 536-0298. For more information, call 535-7932.