Organization

I am an organization addict.

There's an episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond" where Frank mocks Marie for over-organizing.

"You've got a box of string marked 'Pieces of String Too Small to Use'!" he bellows in frusteration.

But I get it. There's not much more satisfying than sorting items into their correct boxes, bins, bags and files. My dear husband, Matt, once asked me to spend a Saturday organizing his desk at work. It was like being proposed to all over again.

I emptied every drawer out, wiped them down, and started inventory. Papers in one pile, office supplies in another, pens and pencils tested and kept or tossed, files sorted in order of use and necessity.

Then I got to go to Office Depot and use the Big Cart. I picked up notebooks, dividers, drawer-organizing baskets, stand-up filing units and flat ones. I bought cups for desktop pens and pencils, and an extra filing setup for an empty drawer.

When he saw my haul, one eyebrow went up.

"I think we're going to have to add a line-item in our budget for your Office Depot supplies," he said as I excitedly explained my new system to him.

But now he raves about his organized desk. He lets me tackle his closet and dresser drawers when they get too crammed. My own closet is sorted by sleeve length (long, 1/2, 3/4, short, shoulder-covering tank-tops, and tanks). My pantry is divided into supplies (further categorized into baking, breakfast, lunch, dinner and spices) and meals.

Since we moved last weekend, the house is ready for a whole new makeover. Harry Potter has a Sorting Hat. I've got a Sorting Room: The guest bedroom is where all the boxes with miscellania are collecting. They're waiting for me to clear an entire Saturday, hook up a TV and DVD player, pop in Season 1 of "Gilmore Girls" for background noise, and start sorting.

After that, my car will practically drive itself to Office Depot.