I have spent about a month over the last couple of months at my
mom's helping her get organized, or digging her out of her paper
avalanche, as she calls it. Also helping her with repairs. For
example, last time I was there, in addition to the sorting, filing,
and recycling, I installed a toilet.

Once I got home, I realized chez Nerd needs much the same sort of
attention. That was my only possible conclusion after being unable to
locate a set of notes. These are no ordinary notes, these are notes
for the Jefferson State Entry Amy P has
been encouraging me to write almost as long as she's known me, notes I
spent several hours and many quarters to acquire.

Yeah, in spite of having plenty of file folders and cabinets, I
lost the notes. Oh, but as I looked for the notes, I found... all
sorts of stuff no one needs. I am my mother's daughter, after all. Of
course when I get to be her age, I won't have a middle-aged daughter
help me sort the wheat from the chaff, so I had better start now.

This entry then is my chronicle of my misadventures in organization.

The smallest bedroom contains four bookcases, lots and lots of
books, two four-drawer file cabinets, and a table supporting a laptop,
a printer, and a bunch of other stuff. This bed-free room also has a
closet containing lots of things, some of which may well belong
someplace else.

I did spend a little time some weeks back tidying up here in the
office. As a result, the left-hand file cabinet actually contains,
more or less, the sorts of things suggested by the little card in the
metal brace proudly mounted on the outside of each file drawer. The
file cabinet to the right is not as forthcoming.

As some RL and on-line friends know, I made an attempt to start a
chocolate shop a couple years back. In the near future I plan to make
another attempt. Before I do so, I should probably clean up the files
related to the first attempt.

Actually, it turns out these files weren't in such bad shape. Now
they are in much better shape.

Oh, no. What a mess. Two of the hanging folders have collapsed
under the strain. Something could perhaps be extrapolated from the
fact that I have several folders unhelpfully labelled "Music." These
folders contain everything from staff paper to sheet music to band
council meeting minutes to fine-grit sandpaper for shaping reeds.

What an odd concept is sorting. You face a pile, knowing that you
have to start somewhere, and you don't quite know what you've got
until you are through. Keep, discard, reminisce, categorize,
repeat.

I play the alto sax and my husband plays the baritone horn (aka
euphonium). Over the years, I have amassed great quantities of tunes,
methods, and arrangements, even a few songs. I'm particularly proud of
my collection of drinking songs. Also there are newsletters, pictures,
newspaper clippings, programs, and other printed materials from
various musical organizations in which we have participated.

Now there are eight hanging folders, none labelled "Music."

Tax files from 1995 forward, maths modelling notes, an essay on
drummer Gene Krupa, certifications, workshop notes, recommendations,
old calendars. A perfect mix of necessary in case of an IRS audit,
helpful when writing Entries, desirable should I ever write my
memoirs, and completely useless.

I've settled on keeping the tax files as they were and setting up a
maths section, a writing section, and a resume section.

Beginning an organization project by tidying up existing files has
both pros and cons. On the positive side, old or useless material can
be recycled, making way for today's needful information and tomorrow's
obsolete data. On the negative side is the absence of any outward sign
of improvement.

There are only two remaining file cabinet drawers. I can safely
ignore the one containing Mr. Nerd's files. The other, an eclectic
collection of everything from household expenses to appliance
warranties to lecture notes falls under my purview.

I've grouped the household expenses together. Some of the other
files belonged in the music drawer, the maths notes section, or the
story idea file. Quite a few items seem to belong nowhere else.

Welding notes? I took a household and farm welding class years ago.
Mushroom cultivation instructions? We grew a couple of nice crops of
oyster mushrooms, before the foster dog tore the bags apart. Photos?
Perhaps one rainy day, I'll put these in an album. But today I think I
should just shut the drawer and press on.

The two-inch stack on top of the file cabinet was a mix of
household expenses, bank statements, and music notes, including a
trombone position chart. On the floor was a copy of an article on
transits of Venus and some equipment manuals. The contents of a large
binder went in the recycling bin.

Hooray, I'm done with the filing for now.

Our science fiction and fantasy collection is in alphabetical order
by author's last name. Mr. Nerd's biology books and my maths books are
well-organized. The remaining non-fiction books are down-right unruly.
But what to do?

I have a huge bone to pick with publishers who don't put a title on
the spine. Perhaps the practice is only common with spiral-bound or
plastic comb-bound books, but it renders the book nearly invisible on
the shelf. I just found a spiral-bound collection of music I had given
up trying to locate.

After a few hours, the books are slowly approaching some
categorical order, not unlike the Dewey Decimal
system, with generous allowances for the fact that some large
books only fit on certain shelves.

Now that the office files and bookshelves are more orderly, I've
gone to the sewing room to find, at Mr. Nerd's request, a sewing
pattern. He'd like a new robe for his birthday, and I'm fairly sure I
know under which mound of stuff that pattern is buried.

We didn't start out with a sewing room. Last year, we converted our
dilapidated carport into a new room, much to the delight of our
neighbors. Until they started popping by to thank us for taking care
of the eyesore, I had no idea our sad carport was so universally
hated. I'm glad the neighbors can't see what a mess I've been making of the
new room.

I originally brought the sewing machine into the new room so I
could make curtains. As a light draws moths, so the sewing machine
attracted a heap of unfinished sewing projects. While sorting through
the fabric and pattern pieces, I found, along with the sheet music for
I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major General, the State of
Jefferson notes.

As soon as I found the pattern for Mr. Nerd's new robe, we headed
off to the fabric shop, leaving the sewing room in an even worse state
than before.

So far today, I've accomplished very little toward the
reorganization of our house and belongings. In finding the State of
Jefferson notes, I've lost my original motivation for the flurry of
tidying up.

Over the last few days, I've found several incomplete projects,
some of which I'd begun before we moved here five years ago. The
temptation to complete them battles with my desire to make our place
presentable as the holidays draw near.

Will Happy Nerd write an entry about the State of Jefferson?
Will Mr. Nerd get a new robe for his birthday? Will chez Nerd be
organized before the holidays? Or ever?

General Features Archive

Happy Nerd

12.10.09 Front Page

Back Issue Page