FILES ON TOP OF FILES

I have developed a unique method of filing important papers.

(And why the heck shouldn't it be "aN unique method"? It isn't, but I don't know why)

I stick it in a manila folder (why "manila"? Because they originally were made from manila hemp), and file it under whatever file folder strikes my fancy at the moment.

So a lot of things get stuck in "family", if it has something to do with anyone I'm related to - "animals" is about the animals, etc. etc. etc. (and why is it okay to use repetitive etc. when it usually isn't?).

But "Church" ends up holding the ward directory, RS lists and compassionate service assignments - but "food storage" has it's own file.

Why does rental property end up under "rental" instead of "2048 Santa Rosa"?

I have no answers - I just know I'll end up retrieving it if I leave it as such.

A MILESTONE

Today I finished things.



I did the laundry - and hung it up - and put in the closet - and cleaned the washer and dryer.

I started invitations for a church event - and designed them - and addressed them - and printed them - and put them in the envelopes - and sealed them.




I took a pile of papers that have been sitting on my desk for several decades - and filed them - and created new files as necessary - and acted on the ones that needed action - and got the entire pile taken care of.



Well, almost all of them.

Mark this date in history - it may never happen again.

CURSED AND DAMNED

I don't live a tough life. I live an extremely sheltered one.

I have a dishwasher. I use a Swiffer for the six square feet of linoleum in my house; vacuum for the rest.

I wear leather gloves when I'm fooling around with the animals outside, and if I am actually doing some work (such as patching the hay shed when rain unexpectedly falls from the Arizona sky).

I don't even have piles and piles of paperwork to file.

So why am I so cursed with recurring - nay, incessant paper-cuts, split fingernails. and torn cuticles?!

Have I somehow offended the unknown deity of cellulose? Should I be making offerings of shredded newspapers? Do I need to bow down and worship some kind of paper machie model?

Please, please, does anyone know of a cure... besides constantly slathering my hands with lotion, wearing band-aids and gloves 24/7?

Hey - that sounds like a great diet aid!

PILES AND PILES AND PILES

Papers obviously have an incredibly energetic albeit private sex life. One day you file a manila folder with a few documents in it and then voila - the next time you take them out, there are 40-50 additional sheets of usually unrelated papers.

What, you mean this might be my fault for not filing properly!? How dare you!

It's difficult for me to get organized at home the way I do when I have an office. At work I literally attack files first and foremost; before anything gets even TOUCHED, the filing is done.

And when I begin a new job, the files are the first thing I organize - by general topic, by date, alphabetically, whatever way works - and then cross-reference between, so even a complete stranger could take over my job and find what they needed to find.

However, at home... somehow I just can't get into like that. I keep random articles, forms, official notifications loosely in folders, but even when I set aside two days (yesterday and the day before, in this case) to get all the old files out, re-organize, clear and put them all in a logical, professional manner....

It just doesn't work.

So I figure I've got a couple of options.

1: Someone who randomly reads this blog feels an overhwelming pang of sympathy, perhaps as a fellow home-file-blunderer or founder of the A.A.C.F.E. (American Association of Closet File Executioners) sends me a money-order for $200,328.84 to inspire me to finally, actually clean up my home files in a professional manner (oh, hell, it was worth a shot) or

2: I feel silly enough after confessing all this that tomorrow I get up, take a shower, put on make-up, dress in a manner suitable for an office staff (even to include nylons - YUCK), drive my truck twice around the block (which for me will be a drive of three miles) to pretend that I am actually going to work, then walk in my house in my fantasy and hit the files as I really would if I was at a job.

Or 3: I sleep in tomorrow, and when I come out, I just stuff the loose files back in the same drawers and try again another year.

Hmmm... as of 22:42 hours tonight, #3 looks the most likely, doesn't it?