I don’t have a drug problem. I don’t have a drinking problem. I have a clutter problem. I am a clutter addict and I need a month in a clutter rehab. If I were an alcoholic, at least I would feel really good from time to time. But there is no such thing as a clutter high.

When was doing the 9-5 gig, I was an organizing wizard. I created hacks that demolished mountains of routine tasks. Now I operate in “put-off-until-tomorrow “mode to the point that a year later the clutter is still there. Both Dad and Mom were organized. my childhood home was full of restful space with nary a thing out of place.  So where did my clutter genes come from? Was I adopted? Adopted or not, I am at the point in my life where either the clutter goes, or my mind goes. No kidding, the clutter that surrounds my life weighs my mind into depression.

QUICK TIP. If you want to feel ten pounds lighter, take ten minutes to put ten piddly little things away.