Anti-Organization Rationale

Take Good Care of Your Junk Drawer


A neighbor of mine, ordinarily a fine yet impulsive person, has done something very, very wrong.

She cleaned out her junk drawer.

For some reason she thought it was a good idea. And she’s proud of herself. She invited me over to see it. “Everything in its place,” she noted.

In case any of you get the notion, some day after you’ve seen one too many HGTV inspirational shows about organizing your life, that you too should engage in such an activity, I would urge you to eat a Ring Ding instead. Keep noshing until the mood passes.

I’ve been brooding about this urge to get organized due to our upcoming move across half the country . I’ve been standing in front of my junk drawer for long minutes, trying to imagine going through it, trying to imagine breaking it down and hauling it away.

There is a reason for junk drawers.

I’m convinced they exist to block the passageway to other dimensions in the time/space continuum. And I’m not even one of those people who wear aluminum hats. It is our duty as American citizens to maintain a strong line of defense. Forget about color coded terror warnings, those impractical, empty rainbows of threats from the Department of Homeland Security. You already know that we can only respond after the fact to disaster. Oklahoma bombing? Olympic explosion in Atlanta? Katrina? Tornadoes bearing down every which way in the Midwest?

Here's my theory: for unknown reasons the contents of junk drawers are Alien Entity Repellents. No matter what those folks in Roswell say, alien abductions are a crock. And it’s because of our ever vigilant construction of house hold junk drawers. You know, like clapping to keep the zebras away.

If you have been maintaining a household without a junk drawer, it’s only a matter of time before the balance of power tips.

Please. I urge you. Create a junk drawer today.

Include the following:

• broken pencils preferably with half eaten erasers

• at least four fortune cookies from Chinese take-out.

• a package of birthday candles (half full is fine)

• a couple of jingle bells

• unwrapped hard candies that will stick to the bottom of the drawer

• five boxes of matches. Not match books. Boxes.

• three marbles

• unasked for address labels from two organizations that are stuck together and therefore, unusable

• two metal skewers

• a yellow highlighter (excellent for its chemical properties, it interacts synergistically with fortune cookies to form an impenetrable wall)

• at least one figurine from a popular movie. Toy Story is best. Reports of success with Donkey, from Shreks I, II, and III, are coming in.


If you don't have a junk drawer then you have an empty drawer.

An empty drawer will result in a small passageway to an alternative universe where alien junk will seep into your pristine space unbidden.

One day you will find "frazmits" and "gurf" and "kildies" in there.

After that, you’ll only have a 48 hour envelope of time to stop the invasion.

Please heed this consumer warning now.

Go. Get unorganized.

A nation’s freedom is at stake.

Thank you.


* the following essay is written due to my wonderful husband’s despair at my lack of organizational skills. “How can you live this way? You don’t know where anything is!” he protests. He is a man who arranges his wallet with all the bills facing the same way and in value order. That thought would never ever occur to me.



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