By Debbie Stanley

Red Letter Day Professional Organizers

I love trash day.

I admit it, I have some weird traits that make people say, “Yup, only an organizer,” and this is one of ‘em. In my book, the trash guys are as heroic as Santa, but instead of one guy bringing a bunch of stuff once a year, you get two or three getting it out of your way every week. Sure, they make more noise than the jolly old elf, but then again, he doesn’t have to deal with the aftermath of litter box cleaning.

Sometimes, if it’s a light trash week, I’ll tour my house thinking, “Hmm . . . what can I throw away?” I recently moved into a new home and office, though, so I haven’t had a light trash week for the last three months. It’s been construction materials, old carpet, stuff the last owner thought I might want, stuff I needed in the old place but now don’t, and a never-ending parade of Evil Cardboard Boxes.

My neighbors must be wondering how it all fit in here. I’ve kinda been wondering that myself.

Every week I look forward to Wednesday evening so I can fill up the recycling bin, empty all the trash cans, ditch the junk mail and catalogs, collect the Starbucks cups and Arby’s bags from my car, and condemn another herd of Evil Cardboard Boxes to their doom. All that junk, all that clutter, all that stuff wasting valuable space—and all I have to do is put it out by the curb and, sure as the sun will rise, somebody will come and take it away. How cool is that?!?

This phenomenon repeats itself with every client I have. They all love it when we create trash. We can go into a room full of stuff that they thought they needed, and, slowly at first but then picking up speed, we find prize after prize: “Hurray!” they exclaim, “it’s trash! Another thing I can get rid of! Another thing I don’t need, don’t love, don’t want, and therefore don’t have to keep!”

Truth be told, I love it too. For me, nothing says “a job well done” like 25 bulging Hefty bags.

The Evil Cardboard Box

To me, a cardboard box is prey: a thing to be hunted, captured, and eradicated. Sure, sometimes I use and even recommend cardboard banker’s boxes for my clients, but only as an interim step on the way to organization. They’re a necessary evil when you’re moving, and I will tolerate a few of them when they’ve been set aside as shipping containers. Other than that, they must be eliminated.

Why the vendetta? Here’s what I’ve learned about cardboard boxes:

• They often sit empty, occupying valuable storage space. People save the boxes and packing peanuts from new computers and stereo components in case they ever move or need to send the item back for repair. Ask yourself, how often do these events occur? Is it worth the wasted space? Could you buy the same size of container for a few dollars at a shipping store when and if you need it? At the very least, can you fold the boxes down so they can be stored flat?

• Cardboard attracts (and can be destroyed by) moisture, bugs, and rodents—three things that have a much harder time penetrating plastic containers. Therefore, long-term storage in paper-based containers is not a good idea. Cardboard shoe boxes are especially bad: There is a particular type of wormy-looking bug that I often find in people’s old shoe boxes, and I don’t know what it is (entomologists, help me out here), but I suspect it eats the glue that holds the box together. Finding one of these worms and explaining my glue theory to the client is usually all it takes to create an enthusiastic convert to the glories of plastic storage.

• Often, a stack of cardboard boxes is in fact a stack of deferred decisions. It’s very easy to sweep the papers off your desk and into a box, throw on a lid, put another box on top, and so on and so on. . . . Pretty soon you’ve gotten rid of the avalanche of paper and you’re left with a tower of cardboard boxes: simple, stackable, unassuming, fade-into-the-background, neat and tidy, sweet and innocent-looking wolves in sheep’s clothing. Don’t be fooled! Never doubt that they are evil—evil!—because the longer you allow them to live, the more they will thwart your organizing efforts.

So cardboard boxes are tolerable only as a short-term solution: Use them to gather up your papers to be sorted, but then make sure you start sorting, getting rid of every box as you empty it, and keep sorting until all of the boxes are gone. Invest in plastic for your holiday storage, archived documents, out-of-season clothes, and anything else that you’re actually saving—not just putting off.

Sentient Clutter

By labeling cardboard boxes as “evil,” I’ve implied that they are sentient beings—that they have the ability to think. Obviously, they’re just inanimate objects, but like all clutter, if there are enough of them, they can start to seem like living things, entities that are ever so slowly creeping up on you. If you’ve begun to think of your clutter as a foe, an adversary that seems to have a life of its own, use the image to your advantage.

It’s like encountering a “smart” bug. Most insects are easily overcome with a fly swatter or a shoe, but once in a while you go up against one that seems cognizant, and worse, that seems to enjoy toying with you.

You swing and it moves. You spray and it flies to another room. You manage to smack it and you watch it fall, but when you run for a paper towel, it stops playing dead and finds a hiding place—probably your underwear drawer. No matter what you do, that danged bug is one step ahead of you and just out of reach.

Now, you know that bug isn’t actually able to mock you (they have no vocal cords, so that “nyah nyah” is just in your head) but it sure seems like it, and it sure would feel good to get the best of it. And since the hateful little creature has made it personal, you will stop at nothing to defeat it. OK, picture yourself at this moment: Feet planted, weapons of insect destruction in hand, a determined scowl on your face, maybe even a Rambo-esque headband. Now imagine that your opponent, your nemesis, the thing that’s done you wrong is not a bug: It’s your clutter.

You widen your focus from the spot where the bug disappeared, and you look around the room at the stacks of papers, the boxes, the clothes, the knickknacks, the toys, the books. Your eyes narrow, a low growl escapes your snarling lips, and you head for the kitchen to exchange the Raid for a handful of garbage bags. . . . You WILL emerge victorious! You’re no longer afraid, and your bloodlust for clutter must be satisfied! HahahaHA!!!

Yep, that’s exactly what it’s like at my house on trash day. Uh, yeah. Mostly. OK, no, I have no Rambo-esque headband. But the sinister laugh is essential.

Embrace Your Clutter-Killing Instinct

Look around. Is there clutter looking back at you? Junk that’s been sitting very still, hiding in plain sight, trying sooo hard not to giggle? Stuff that you now see belongs not in your living room but in the gaping maw of the garbage truck? Go ahead, start hunting: track it down, bag it up, drag it out. Make it a weekly treat for yourself. Relish that power, that control over your environment. Want to feel really good? Start a weight-loss journal: Weed out your clutter and weigh each bag as it goes out the door.

You might even develop a warm fuzzy feeling for YOUR trash guys—a reason to smile instead of curse when they wake you up with their, uh, boisterous revelry. But if you don’t grow to love them (and if they grow to loathe your house with its dozens of 200-lb. trash bags), at least you’ll be keeping them busy.

And hey, I’m obsessed so I’ve gotta ask: How about starting with Evil Cardboard Boxes?

“Debbie Stanley of Red Letter Day Professional Organizers is a chronic disorganization coach, author, and speaker on topics from basic organizing tips to disorganization caused by AD/HD, obsessive-compulsive disorder, traumatic brain injury, and other complex situations. Her nonjudgmental approach helps clients regain their self-esteem while discovering the best organizing solutions for their unique needs. Visit Red Letter Day at www.RLDPO.com.”

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