Plucking organizing wisdom out of a tragedy

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
 
The vibration of Ross’s phone jolted us out of a deep sleep. I recognized the faint voice on that other line as my father-in-law.
 
My heart sank.
 
A couple they had been friends with since college had died in a plane crash. Both of them. Gone. They were flying home from their condo in Florida. A flight he’d piloted many times. But this time something went wrong.
 
My in-laws needed us to keep their elderly dog at their home while they traveled to be with the family. We agreed, eager to do anything that might make life easier for them at this moment.
Their home was newly renovated, clean and organized tight as a pin. Despite our somber moods we quickly found ourselves at home and comfortable there.
 
As we were settling in the first night, one of us needed a set of tweezers for something. I can't remember what, but I know I didn’t bother checking my mess of a travel bag. I knew I didn't have ‘em. Or if I did, they'd be a bitch to find. So I went straight to his mom’s vanity drawer.
Among other precisely placed items was one set of shiny silver tweezers.
 
No dust, no rogue nail clippings. No tangles of stray hair, whiskers or other grooming utensils to contend with. They sat waiting for their next assignment in their own spotless little well.
Our tweezers lived buried in an overstuffed little drawer. Nothing like this one. The contrast between them gave me pause.
 
I’d opened this drawer half expecting to dig like I would at home.
 
At home, in our lone full bath, finding the thing you wanted took a much greater level of focus. A fee I hadn't realize I was paying until this moment. I couldn't blame the contrast on the cabinetry's 70 year age gap. I knew WE were the problem.
 
Getting out of my own sloppy environment, I could see how accustomed to our mess we'd gotten. This organized drawer didn’t need extra bouts of focus or special Spidey senses to find things. Anyone could find what they needed. And it was delightful.
Seeing these well-kept tweezers on this particularly sad day made a lasting impression. Struggling to lay my hands on something was no longer the way I wanted to spend my time. Not one little bit of it.
 
When we returned home I removed all the drawers. Cleaned them. Painted the bottoms a fun burst of blue. Corralled like items in small bins and boxes. Then went about enjoying every. Single. Use.
 
Why am I telling you this? Because something happens when you enjoy using your tweezer drawer, y'all. The rest of your life catches wind of this powerful delight. And you don't want that kind of predictable pleasure to stop.
 
It's a visible proof I can improve my little corner of the world. And why stop there?
 
Our messy cluttered spaces aren't the real problem, they are a symptom. A natural response to an overwhelmed and distracted way of life.
 
The benefits of a clean up project go bigger than a cozy spot for your tweezers. And I can help you get them. If you are ready to make changes that create a big impact, do the thing that’s going to get it done. Schedule a call and let's make a game plan.
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