Organization Nation

I’ve tried just about everything. Spreadsheets, computer programs, one failed experiment with an abacus, and hiring my dog as an accountant. Nothing worked.

I am a mass of unorganized personal business.

I might be able to accept it if I didn’t have such skill in organizing the lives of others. Give me a mass social event, I’ll plan it. Whether it is a party (including food, drink, and entertainment) for 60 people, a camping trip for 25, or a trip to Sin City for 23, I can plan an event. Times, dates, financing, lodging. I got it. Even if it becomes too much for me, I know about the powers of delegation and hand the responsiblity to the right person (if they don’t recognize the need for it immediately and take it upon themselves). Even small events…like yesterday…I quickly turned my home into a sports bar, complete with three televisions (all broadcasting different football games), seating for everyone, and a kitchen and wait staff (thanks, honey).

The disconnect is a painful one. While I have a detailed mental list of everything I need to do (post office, balance checkbook, vet appointment, Brazilian wax, etc), none of it gets done. Why? I don’t know. It’s not for a lack of time. I haven’t been diddling while the fiddler fiddled. I haven’t been going to the Holiday Bowl (home of the WAC Champion, by the way). Stuff just doesn’t get done. That’s a pefectly passive way of saying…I don’t get stuff done.

Bah.

I’ve been thinking recently that I need a new desk. The one in my office is too small and is covered in small scraps of paper and various advertisements for call girls. When I need something, I spend six or seven minutes looking for it before I find it underneath a pamphlet from Trixie the Three-Dollar Tramp (not a hooker, but a method actor who lives with the homeless six days a week and performs a one-woman show on Saturdays). I think she’s up for a Tony.

I’d vow to be more organized, but I would probably get sidetracked by a party or road trip that needed planning. What’s more, I have to go. My dog has spent the last hour with a ten-key adding machine and has just notified me that I’m overdrawn.

I knew I was paying her for something.