While we were getting the desks cleaned out lately I was reminded how much I hate dealing with paperwork. Dana was working very hard to get the house ready before she left for her next trip. We had several days uninterrupted over the Christmas / New Year break and took full advantage of them. She tackled her desk and closet, was working on cleaning out our spare room. Then came my messy corner.
For some strange reason I cannot keep things neat and tidy. I’m clean. Even picky. But not tidy. I once heard it described, “some people are filers, others are pilers.” Maybe I’m the latter. I don’t know why, though. I really hate dealing with paperwork. Sometimes it’s inconvenient. Other times it just falls where I can’t get to it. Then there are the things I don’t want to deal with.
Most of the paperwork has to do with things that remind me of my failures or limitations: credit card stuff, doctor bills, student loans, bank statements. I get overwhelmed thinking, ‘yep, ANOTHER thing you didn’t do.’ Throwing it in a box or pushing it to the back of the desk ’till I can get to it –at a better time– is easier. That is, until I have to clean up the piles. Then it’s all there staring me in the face.
To make matters worse, somebody has to help me go through all of this. Here enters Dana. I said, “we can do this in fifteen minutes.” We were okay at first. Then the piles on the desk: frustrating, but got through it. Then the big orange box. It was unbelievable what I had stuffed away in a year. Some stuff we shreaded. That felt good. I didn’t want to look at the undone stuff from months gone by. There were notebooks with ideas I hadn’t achieved. Threw some of them away. Others I couldn’t part with. They had notes to myself of things I don’t want to forget; the reminders of how I got where I am today.
Two hours passed and we were through it. Much of my clutter was gone. My piles whittled down to the essential things I had to keep handy for now or wanted to keep for posterity. This hoarding and purging is such a chore. I don’t know why I do it to myself. I don’t know why I do it to whomever is helping me.