Messed up

We who work at home face one ongoing struggle day in and day out -- getting organized.

If only we could get organized, we say, we could find things when we need them. Our offices would be tidy, streamlined spaces where actual work could be accomplished. Our homes would be so clean, you not only could eat off the floors, you could eat the floors themselves. For dessert.

In truth, of course, most of us are woefully disorganized. Our home offices are rabbit warrens of piled paperwork and moldy coffee cups and misplaced invoices and random socks. Our houses are so covered in clutter and dust and cobwebs, people think we're The Munsters.

We have good intentions. It's not like we WANT to live this way. It's just that we're very busy, and getting organized falls way down on our "Things to Do" list, right after "toenail maintenance" and "napping."

We make occasional attempts at getting organized, but they usually fall short and they never last. If we ever get all our stuff exactly where we want it, we immediately receive a whole bunch more stuff to pile up on our desks. Or, we don't put a few things away when we're done with them and, whoops, before you know it, the place is a wreck again. Or, the kids come home from school and race shrieking through the house like a tornado, disorganizing everything in sight.

Many home-office workers buy books on getting organized, which immediately vanish into the packrat middens of their offices, never to be seen again. Some even go so far as to hire experts, organization "consultants" who come to the home and declare that everything should be thrown out or at least put away. For this advice, the consultants are paid big bucks. (Note: Many people get their Moms to do this service for free.)

The problem with all these approaches is that they ignore the central issue: We are lazy.
We don't want to admit it, of course. We want to blame the disorganization for our lack of productivity, but it's really the other way around. The mess is a symptom of our larger disease -- sloth.

Once we accept our own laziness, we find there are many shortcuts, ways to give our offices and our homes the appearance of tidiness. And for a lazy person, that's enough.

Here, then, is:

THE LAZY PERSON'S GUIDE TO GETTING ORGANIZED

--Hide stuff. What do you think closets are for? People who urge you to "organize" your closets are missing the point. We have closets so we can stow stuff out of sight. The same goes for garages. And desk drawers. However, this technique requires that you be prepared to tackle any guest who mistakenly tries to open a closet door.

--Some home furnishings help the lazy person camouflage the general disorder and filth. Patterned countertops, for instance, will hide an abundance of spills. Desks with many pigeonholes can make it appear there's a place for everything, even if you just cram in stuff haphazardly. Someone could make a fortune if he invented a carpet the color and texture of dust bunnies.

--You can incorporate your mess into your home decorating scheme. A jumble of pizza boxes and Chinese takeout containers, arranged properly, qualifies as Art. A two-foot stack of unread paperwork makes a dandy, absorbent end table.

--Shelves are an often-overlooked organizational tool. Have shelves installed everywhere in your home and garage. Cover every wall with shelves. Put your stuff on the shelves. You still won't be able to find anything, but at least you'll be able to walk around without tripping over stuff all the time. Sturdy shelves also make it easier to climb the walls when you can't stand the mess anymore.

--Live neat or die. Once you've surrendered, once you've decided you'll never get your stuff organized, you can simply start over. Pretend you died. Put up signs that say, "Estate Sale." Unload all your material possessions on unwitting passers-by. After you've emptied the place, you can slowly, meticulously refurnish, putting everything where it belongs. And when you're done, you'll have the same old mess stacked to the ceiling.

--You can always change your name to Munster.

Traveling shoes

Postings to the blog will slow over the next few days while I attend Left Coast Crime Conference in Denver. Left Coast is my favorite mystery conference -- just the right size, fairly close to home and attended by all my favorite people. Hope to see some of you there!

My wife and I travel separately a lot, taking turns staying home with the teen-agers. My petite wife never worries about burglars while I'm gone. Why? Look here.

Be prepared

In this time of global heebie-jeebies, loyal Americans find themselves worrying about all sorts of potential disasters: terrorist attacks, anthrax letters, plane crashes, power grid failures, fire, flood, famine and/or car trouble.

That's why it's important to be prepared for any and all emergencies. Home preparedness not only can be key to your survival, it can also provide that elusive quality known as "peace of mind."

The main component in such preparation is the Emergency Survival Kit, and no home should be without one. But how, you might ask, can one assemble such a kit? What does every home need in times of calamity?

Ah, that's where we can help. We here at Home Front headquarters have spent literally minutes on Internet research and have consolidated that vast array of information into the following list of emergency supplies.

You should run right out and buy all this gear and carefully store it in a cool, dry place, such as a bomb shelter or root cellar. Doing so assures that you'll never need any of it. Just assembling an Emergency Survival Kit virtually guarantees that you'll never have an actual emergency. It's a matter of karmic talisman, and it's the reason we always carry jumper cables.

However, while creating your Emergency Survival Kit, you should pretend that you'll actually need this stuff someday. Remember: In the case of an actual emergency, you'll be cooped up with your family for days or weeks. You'd better have enough food/water/medicine/batteries/Game Boys to keep your family safe, happy and amused until the "all clear" signal sounds.

In other words, it'll be exactly like a long car trip with the kids, except without the scenery.

THE EMERGENCY SURVIVAL KIT

--Canned or dried food

How much? It depends on how many family members will be tapping the supply, and how long they would prefer such food to, say, fleeing into the nuclear fallout. In the case of canned goods, you should stockpile enough for a week or two. With dried food, maybe three days' worth.

--Can opener

Duh.

--Water

Our Internet sources say you should have three liters of bottled water per person per day. But since we don't know how much a "liter" is, we'd simply recommend that you store "a lot" of water. Water's not just for drinking. You'll also need it for washing, which becomes increasingly important in the close quarters of a bomb shelter.

--A grill or hibachi

You'll need some way to heat that canned food. Dried food makes good fuel.

--First aid kit

This should include all the usual first aid items. Go heavy on the headache remedies, especially if there are children in the family.

--Flashlights

--Extra batteries

--Candles and matches

In case a "romantic evening" breaks out in the old bomb shelter.

--Radio

--More batteries

--Toilet paper

Lots. In case things go really wrong, toilet paper makes a dandy turban.

--Pet supplies

Don't forget about Rover or Fifi. They won't eat dried food, either, and they'll want their usual chow. Remember, if times become desperate enough, a well-fed pet can become "lunch."

--Toys, books, handheld video games and portable stereos

It's tough to stay amused when you're waiting out nuclear winter. Stock enough of these gizmos so that every family member can stay busy singing along with their favorite songs or playing their favorite games.

--Way more batteries

--Earplugs

So you don't have to listen to your family members sing along.

--Basic tools

Can't ever tell when you might need a hammer. For example, if your relatives refuse to stop
singing . . .

--Blankets or sleeping bags

--Copies of important documents and medical records

When the government starts going door-to-door, searching for terrorists, you'll want some ID handy.

--Personal hygiene items, such as toothbrushes and deodorant

Trust us.

--Emergency clothing

This includes rain gear, sturdy shoes and warm clothes you can wear in layers under your "hazmat" suits.

--Did we mention batteries?

Once you've assembled all these items, you'll find that they fill your designated shelter to the brim. There'll be no room in there for actual people. But, given enough warning, you can quickly construct a shelter out of whatever's handy. We suggest using dead batteries.

Blog o' my heart

I'm the guest blogger today on Murderati, the excellent crime fiction blog run by some pals of mine. My little essay is about finding the "funny part" in my writing. You can read it here: http://www.murderati.typepad.com/

Dog droppings

Elvis is everywhere.

At our house, Elvis is the family hound dog. This time of year, when he's indoors much of the time, cooped up with the rest of us, his impact on the household becomes extreme. Traces of
Elvis litter every room.

This is because Elvis is wearing his "winter coat." Elvis is a long-legged, bobtailed mutt whose natural coat is a tangled, wiry, black-and-gray mess. Picture the hair of boxing impresario Don King. You get the idea.

Because of its natural tendency toward natty dreadlocks, we have the coat trimmed by a local groomer every few months. She clips him short all over, except around his face, which is left in a boxy beard. When he's freshly groomed, Elvis doesn't look like Bob Marley anymore. He looks like me.

In the winter, we let his coat grow a little longer because it's cold outside. Not that the dog is outside much. He spends, oh, 23 hours a day indoors, lying on the rug, sleeping.

But every couple of hours, he needs to go outside to attend to business and to make sure the neighborhood birds aren't scarfing his dog food.

He's not out long because it's winter and the cold might keep him awake. But during these brief expeditions, he manages to get covered in leaves and dead grass and other items that cling to the Amazing Velcro Dog. I open the door, he runs into the house, finds a nice clean spot somewhere and, shake-shake-shake, rids his coat of its detritus.

One day recently, I finished vacuuming the house. Elvis was outside, choosing the cold over the roar of the vacuum cleaner. As soon as the noise ended, he wanted back inside. I let him in, then gasped when I saw he was covered in brittle bits of yellow grass from the lawn.

Shake-shake-shake. My floor was no longer clean. Instead, it looked like somebody had dropped a bale of hay.

I started to scold the dog, but it was too late. He was already asleep again. Grumbling, I went off to get the vacuum cleaner.

The winter coat also produces more shedding, somehow. You'd think the dog would want to hold onto all his fur in the winter. But Elvis' coat works overtime, producing piles of spilled hairs.
These hairs migrate around the house, uniting with their kinsmen into gray dust bunnies that gradually grow larger, picking up dead grass and Christmas tinsel as they travel from room to room. By the time I find them hiding behind the drapes, they're the size of tumbleweeds.

I can vacuum with a vengeance, around and under all the furniture and behind the drapes and even (oh, my God!) under the kids' beds, and the moment I put away the vacuum cleaner and wipe the sweat from my brow, a half-dozen dust bunnies will dance out to the center of the room. Mocking me.

Did I mention we have beige carpet? Or, at least, as I recall, it once was beige. In the winter, it's more often a mottled brown, decorated with fallen leaves and muddy paw prints and a thatch of gray fur. I tell guests we're going for a "more natural look," one I call "Forest Floor."

At least I can stop raking leaves in the back yard. Elvis eventually will bring them all into the house, and I'll vacuum them up. It's a slow means of leaf disposal, but, heck, we've got all winter.

Elvis is worth the trouble, of course. For all the cleaning up after him we have to do (and all the money we spend on groomers and vet visits and dog/bird food), we get a family friend, one who's loyal and trustworthy and well-loved. Any time of the day or night, if we feel lonely or depressed, we can watch him sleep.