Not so long ago my orderly and neat husband held up an empty orange envelope on his bureau. "Do you need this?" He married a woman who believes "Though Shalt Not Chuck Before Asking" should be the 11th commandment.

I did need that envelope. I’d scribbled pertinent information on it regarding an upcoming speech I was delivering. Why I chose to write important notes on the back of my son’s Halloween card envelope from his grandparents might as well be the story of my life.

“The back of an envelope,” my husband said. “This is how you organize the details of your life.” 

“I’m just trying to recycle,” I lied. 

Truth be told, I function in a state of chronic disorganization. “Noooo not you…” assured a well-meaning Army wife who has known me just a few months. She’d been to my house for coffee. On that night the silver shined, the floors gleamed, and the candles glowed. Martha Stewart would have patted me on the back. Had the domestic diva opened the pantry, she’d be pelted by kamikaze Cheerios. Go in my closet and she’d get pummeled by a disgruntled band of shoes demanding better living conditions.   

“Noooo, not you…” I’ve always been a sucker for flattery. Maybe I was judging myself too harshly. But later that week reality set in when I opened a folder and discovered my dental x-rays tucked between the pages of an old speech.

I like to think of myself as a high-functioning-disorganized-messy-clutter-bug person. I meet my work deadlines. I catch planes. I eat regularly from at least three of the four food groups. I show up for meetings. I bathe daily.

Still, I wish I could be like other military wives I know: the ones at meetings who dutifully take notes in day planners or three-ring binders with color-coded plastic clip dividers.

“Do you have something to write with?” my husband whispered to me last night at our FRG meeting. I rummaged through my purse. No pen, but I did find four tubes of ChapStick.

“Here,” he said giving me his forearm where I found two pens and a mechanical pencil tucked in his uniform sleeve. The Army truly thinks of everything.

“Do you have something to write on?” he asked.

I dug in my purse again and pulled out a twice-folded sheet of paper. I began to diligently take notes on upcoming cookie baking and gift wrapping opportunities. Later, I unfolded the paper. It was a hospital print-out for my upcoming doctor’s appointment.   

With my track record, there’s no chance I’ll ever be like my friend Noel, who 23 years after graduating from West Point still organizes her closet by function, color and length.

“All collars have to open in the same direction, top buttons fastened,” Noel said.

“There needs to be a two fingers space between each hangar, and the hangars all have to match. On the floor all shoes must be dress-right-dress and lined up heels out with the pairs in right-left order. Never mix up the black shoes and brown shoes. Any items folded on the closet shelf must be in size order, smallest on the top with their outside creases aligned. The last rule is that no one else in the house has to live by my West Point closet rules.”

Noel says not to get her started on her sock and underwear drawer. To be like Noel I’d have to come back in another life as someone else. At the same time, I’d like to improve my messy, disorderly ways.

Since the New Year is emblematic of shedding the old and shimmying into the new, I decided to stop lamenting and start progressing. Organization is a big business. Books, blogs, TV shows, articles, and Internet forums offer advice, tips, and products all promising to “Banish Clutter Forever!” “Get Organized Now!” “Live Clutter-Free!” and my favorite, “30 Step Life Makeover!”

Last year at this time I bought “Martha Stewart’s Homekeeping Handbook: The Essential Guide to Caring for Everything in Your Home.” The 744 page tome covers everything from cleaning the refrigerator grill (who knew?) to how to layout a bedroom and buy a mattress. On the cover is a smiling Martha, a roll of paper towels tucked under one arm and a spray bottle in hand happily wiping her already sparkling French door. In the background sunlight makes her door and blonde locks glisten. A year later, the pages of that book still haven’t seen the light of day.

Maybe I just needed to talk with an expert. I was amazed to come across a group right up my littered alley: the National Study Group on Chronic Disorganization. In the name of science, I was willing to offer myself up as a specimen for study. But alas, after a few attempts, no one got back with me. Surprised?

Instead, I turned to Janet Hall, www.overhall.com, a professional organizer who specializes in space clearing, organizing, clutter clearing, productivity, and feng shui.
If Janet can help messy staffers at the Washington Post and the U.S. Census Bureau get organized, maybe there was hope for me. During our hour-long conversation we talked about time management, list making, prioritizing, sorting, filing, tossing, storing, and recycling. Parts of our conversation went like this:

Janet: “Is anything a fire hazard in your home?”
Me: “Hmmm, only my closet. Oh, and my husband did once scold me for allowing five pounds of scattered manuscript pages to smush the computer wires under my desk. He said I was going to burn the house down.” 

Me: “I want to get organized. I’ve made attempts. I buy boxes, space bags and under-the-bed storage boxes. But they are empty. What’s my problem?”

Janet: “You’re frozen.”
Me: “I’m frozen?”

Janet explained I may have seen an ad or had a moment of inspiration but later decided, “Do I really want to do this?”

Me: “Many people in the military are very organized. Do you have to be a Type A to be neat and orderly? I think I’m a Type C.”
 
Janet’s actually helped a few military families get organized and found the guys resistant to throwing stuff out. “Military men seem to want to save every little patch, every little award,” she said. “In their work they are very structured. Some people might be organized at work, but not at home or vice versa. Again, it’s drilling down to why.” 

Me: “Why do I feel the need to dust for the plumber?
Janet: “That’s ego getting in the way.” 

Me: “This has happened to all of us. You have people over and someone asks for a tour. If your bedroom looks like World War III, what should you do?”
Janet: “It’s okay to have public and private areas in your home. You can still give a tour, just say ‘that’s a private area.’”

I pulled some gold nuggets worth sharing from my conversation with Janet:

1. Don’t ask yourself, where can I put this? Ask yourself, where will I find this when I need it?
   
2. The Honesty Question: Why do I have this? Why do I want this?
   
3. There’s a difference between being neat, clean and organized.
   
4. If you want to come and see me, drop by anytime. If you want to visit my house, make an appointment.

By conversation’s end, Janet gently suggested maybe I could use some professional help. “Some people can’t do it on their own,” she said.

This reminds me, I’ve added more scribble to that Halloween envelope. In the bottom corner I noticed I wrote the name and phone number of the event planner for a function I’m doing in...