When the laundry basket is not an answer

  I have lived in the same studio apartment in Washington DC for 14 years.  Whenever people ask me how I can stand living in one room for so long, I have a myriad of responses.  Sometimes I say my apartment is cozy. Other times I say it is all I can afford for the affluent neighborhood I live in.  The truth I have privately thought to myself is:  I have too much stuff to move.  An avid reader, a lover of all things Sesame Street and a collector of electronic toys, my apartment was overrun with stuff.  I could not ever find anything, and had a tendency to buy new things whenever I lost them.  I despised doing the laundry so I would let it build up until I reached the crisis point of having no clothes to wear the next day.  When I received a gift card to Target, I knew instantly what I would be purchased.  My colleague at work was horrified when I told her I purchased 30 pairs of underwear and 12 pairs of socks, so I could have more time to do the laundry if needed. 

It was not until I came down with a very sore throat and missed a considerable amount of work that I began to think I needed professional help.  I hated being in my messy apartment, but could barely get out of bed I was so sick.  I lost my voice completely, so I typed professional organizer and Washington DC into Google.  I came across this company called, "Solutions by Scott: Professional Organizing."   I called Scott and explained my situation, and he agreed to help.  I offered him a hard hat, but he offered to bring his own. 

Scott put me to work right away throwing away lots of stuff.  It was painful, and I had ideas about smuggling some of my possessions out of the trash when his back was turned.  I had told Scott that I sometimes lost a bag of groceries in the apartment due to setting it down somewhere and then forgetting about it.  Only perishable items went into the refrigerator right away.  

I was cleaning out the couch when I saw some long white stem poking out from behind the cushion.  I removed the couch's cushions, only to explain to Scott, "Hey! There is a potato growing in here!"  Scott and I laughed and then he had me repeat several times, "The couch is not for storage."

Scott had me gather all my laundry in one place so I could wash it.  In the end, it was fourteen loads.  Scott asked me where I liked to put items.  I kept responding, "The laundry basket, the clothes live in the laundry basket until they are worn."  Scott and I put away all those clothes, with him continually reminding me that the laundry basket was not an acceptable answer. 

My closet looks like it belongs in a magazine, and I have not lost my cell phone, keys, remotes or wallet since he came.  The sesame Street toys are all packed up in a box in the closet, but I snuck out a couple of Ernies when Scott went to use the bathroom.