organized

...Speaking of Grandma's recipes (see Grandma's Borscht)- hers for '[hk]oo-lyp-see' [stuffed cabbage] has seduced me with the phrase: roll them loosely, pack them tight. I've adopted the broader concept of 'general programs in apple-pie-order' into nearly every avenue of life. In terms of household organization it is an ever-changing system that requires above all else a careful eye to functional surfaces- what is likely to pile up? and how can one whip the ugliness into a picturesque conformity. Like a pile of books- within reason even newspapers- can lend an aire of voracious minds at play, if not too prissily aligned. Topped with the 'Magic 8-ball' the impression widens to suggest an appetite beyond things knowable. One must be careful when the height or sheer number of these piles threaten to obscure one's path from the door. The goal is to appear to be inquisitive while not quite bookish (which might leave visitors wary of sitting down on half-eaten candy bars). Be warned that family pets are not always respectful of what you're trying to accomplish- especially our dog, who is capable of rearranging entire furniture groupings. It is acceptable to have a kitchen full of dirty dishes provided that the are scraped and stacked restaurant-style beside the sink- not in it. Despite the number of days they may have sat there, it is the suggestion of a professional work ethic that buys forgiveness. Also, your stemware will fare much better. Plates should be kept on a lower shelf over the stove to stay warm, displacing herbs. I'll admit that spices and dried herbs require a better system than the one I presently employ where most frequently used items are to the front of an eye-level shelf holding a very busy collection of bottles, jars, and baggies. I won't brag about the convenience but it's a good place to hide things from the children. I keep glassware on a higher shelf than plastic vessels to discourage climbing youngsters, but it doesn't always work. Coffee, tea, Macaroni N' Cheese, oatmeal, rice and powdered drinks should occupy the "just add water' cabinet over the sink along with a shelf of the required mugs, pitchers, and bowls. Pots should be stored with their lids, not nested, unless you enjoy cacophonous struggles. Speaking of which, short of replacing your aluminum bake ware with the new-fangled silicone (which I mistrust because it still requires the support of what?, a metal cookie sheet), my only suggestion is to keep the Pyrex somewhere else. It's depressing enough to learn that mice are using your bunt pan as a toilet, limiting the frequency of having to open the cabinet at all is the best option. [I give you my word as a former professional dishwashist {dishwasher operator}, these items are sanitized before I use them]. Of course I assume someone will be peeking in my junk drawer which is why I am careful to assign actual junk to a box in the basement (especially corded electronic accessories, enemies of containment in drawers). What should remain are flashlights, batteries, screwdrivers, mousetraps, sewing kits (unless broad enough to warrant inclusion in a 'sewing basket'), IKEA wrenches, and for a touch of whimsy, the flattened out souvenir pennies from those cranking machines. These suggest, and let's admit junk drawers betray the order of our brains, a 'can-do' personality. Before hyper-organizing fasteners into dozens of baby food jars, consider the frame of mind one is in when one is stuck on fastening. If we knew what we needed and we knew what it was called, we could certainly appreciate going to an aptly labeled jar for hundreds of them. But in practice we need no more than five of them, and a quick rifle through four trays titled nails w/ heads, nails w/o heads, screws w/ points, screws w/o points (and with the designation of a box titled 'tape and glue') what couldn't be fastened. I'll tell you what- if you're that crafty. Go to an automotive center and buy a roll of the goo (in tape form) that sets windshields in place (butyl). I won't guarantee you can hang your bowling pin collection from your popcorn ceiling with it, but in the world of non-porous connectors it has no equal, and the one roll will last you your entire life. Communities located on active fault lines know I speak the truth. Mementos could be gathered into a Rubbermaid container labeled 'Cherished Crap' (for good-but-not-frame-able postcards, expensive personalized gifts you can't use, decks of naughty playing cards, etc.), but the mindful (appearing careless) display of old photos chronicling period hair choices, I.O.U.s from drunk friends, or anything to do with a deceased Pope should be allowed to pop up as a bookmark or stuck to the refrigerator. Clothes storage is a matter of personal choice, but consider devoting a large drawer for socks. It's a lot of space to devote to what most men would relegate to one of those small drawers up top but 1- can you own enough socks (and conversely, flip-flops?) and 2- the square footage (area) of a large drawer makes absolute sense for bleary-eyed groping. I accidentally wore two different socks to school one day in 1966- I won't make that mistake again! A seasonal change of short and long pants in the bottom drawer will afford the extra room. By the way, the Kurt Vonnegut rule for writing- "ruin your own jokes" takes seed in the fashion world as- "throw out the things you bought on vacation". Closets- see; William Sledd on You-tube. He didn't invent color grouping, (I think thrift stores did), but why not choose your tie first and hold it up to an array of shirts to find the right match. It's the jump-start to 'meticulous'. I do group by color but I am no William Sledd. Our closet is tragically disordered. Where it should be eight or nine 'stuffed cabbages' it's just the one. I have a few boxes of shoes on a shelf but since moving day over a year ago I haven't quite figured out what to do with the three or four gigantic boxes of them at the bottom of the closet. Maybe if my oldest son moves out in six years I can re-purpose his bunk beds as a shoe rack, but that's a shaky prospect to pin my dreams on. I've already outlined my frustration with junk mail (two Sierra Trading Post catalogs ago). My new plan is to buy one of those coastal homes with a ground floor basement and the actual living space starting one flight up. Happily, I don't care what my basement looks like as long as I can get to the fuse box. Somehow I only received the Obsessive half of Compulsive/ Obsessive Disorder, I own no such compulsion to make or follow hard-fast systems. But in this house that's enough to make me the Felix Unger. This is something my mother should find deservedly ironic. I located her last nerve thirty years ago when I left the bag of bread unclosed for probably the three hundredth time, an occasion which left me picking breadcrumbs out of my shag. "Wrong damn shelf.." I mutter first thing in the morning (after Michael has unloaded the dishwasher), swapping plastic cups for glasses when my eyes are open barely enough to recognize my Alf coffee mug. "What's this doing here" I say, picking my blanket up off of the dining room floor on my way up to bed at night. Finding out if anything will make this house run smoother will probably cost me my stomach lining- but I'll keep at it. Presently I'm trying to wrap my mind around the sixteen or so 'tote bags' (emblazoned with slick graphics for various medications) that litter the floor of every room. They might contain anything from unwashed athletic gear to May 16th's uneaten lunch, something I am happy not knowing as long as I am able to resist unzippering them. They constitute enough of a 'stuffed cabbage' for me, I'm thinking I'll drive a few nails into all the load bearing walls in the house, hang them up, and call it a day.