STEP 1: CATEGORIZE your stuff.
PUT LIKE THINGS WITH LIKE THINGS. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Not so for everyone.

When we are little, we spend a lot of our cognitive capital learning to categorize things — all the red blocks go together; dogs vs. tables; hats vs. shoes, cars vs. airplanes; cars, airplanes and trains vs. camels, horses and people, and so on. The older we get, the more practice we’ve had and we take it for granted that we can easily and faultlessly do this whenever we need to. And, in theory, we do.

Yet, in practice, when faced with trying to organize the accumulated “stuff” of our fast-paced, time-crunched, multi-focused lives, categorizing it all can seem like your worst nightmare. What to put with what. How big to make the category. What to do with things that could go in more than one category. What about one-of-a-kind things?

Good news: categories are arbitrary. You use ‘em? You choose ‘em. There are some common ones, like linens, tools, financial records, gift wrapping supplies, and memorabilia. But, depending on use, these may not be the best categories for your stuff. So, make your own categories, such as guest linens (kept seperately near the guest room), upstairs tools (workshop tools in the basement), things to take when you go to the beach, toys with little pieces, winter sports gear, craft and art supplies (seperate from office supplies), and any other functional grouping. Just be sure you define what goes in each and that the category is a logical place for you to look for something you put in it.

Okay, so now you’ve sorted your piles into a whole lot of smaller piles, the trash can is full, your shelves and drawers and closets are empty — You did include them in the sort, didn’t you? — and you’ve pulled out everything under the beds and behind the doors. Now what?

STEP 2 – Capture
Now that you have all those piles of like things, it’s time to capture each pile and find a place you can dedicate to that category and only that category –a drawer, a closet, a specific section of your basement, storage shelves. The capture challenge is finding ways to keep like things together and still have them be accessible. Maybe a drawer just for socks, a games cabinet (with small bins for little pieces), trays for different categories of papers, a bin for yarn, bins for holiday decorations and, of course, the absolutely necessary drawer for parts to unknown things.

And, most importantly . . . .
STEP 3 – LABEL
Label everything — side, top and front. Labels increase the likelihood that things get put back with the other things in its category. Labels make it easier to find things. Labels keep you honest — there’s just no excuse for putting a hammer in the drawer labeled ’socks.’

So there you are, everything with a place. The rest is all about maintenance, maintenance, maintenance. You’ve just got to make yourself put things away and no system, not matter how good it is, is going to do it for you. Go to it!

What is the problem? Why is it every time I approach the project every bone in my body shouts: “Run! Not today.” I just know it will suck me into a quagmire of confusion, dead ends and frustration that will take unbelievable hunks of time out of an already overscheduled life.

This is where productive procrastination kicks in. Hurrah for avoidance! Not doing the project leaves so much time to do the eight hundred other things I’ve been meaning to do “when I get time.” Avoiding going in one direction sends me flying in others. Avoidance is so motivating. I’ll do anything to justify not doing what I know I should. Guilt drives me to do something productive – something worthy, something needed, something I can tick off the Someday list.

Once in productive procrastination mode, I cheerfully change burnt out light bulbs, email long overdue thank you notes, weed the garden, vacuum the car, clean up my desk and to-file tray (Yes, even I get buried in paper.), and re-pot the scraggly coleus. I sew on buttons, iron that which no person has ever ironed before, repack the heater I need to return, return the heater, sweep the garage, put up the rack for lawn tools I bought three years ago. clean up my email, and take the mountainous give-away pile to the Survival Center. It feels so good. I’ve accomplished so much and I can see what a difference it makes. I’m taking care of business! I’m productive!!!

Meanwhile, I edge up to that which I am so carefully avoiding. One day I collect relevant papers and the phone number for the bureaucratic call and put them in a tray. A few days later, I skim the papers and a few days after that I make myself review it all and make a plan of attack. Maybe a week later, I get brave, eat a bunch of chocolate and make the call – which of course puts me on hold: “Your wait time is six minutes.” Waiting but mobile – blessings upon cordless phones with headsets – I now have six glorious minutes to dust my desk, fold laundry, serf the web or just stare vacantly out the window and contemplate the universe. Six minutes later, when the representative comes on the phone, I know that no matter how frustrating or disappointing the call may turn out to be, I can balance it out by looking at all I’ve accomplished in the process of avoiding it.