Needing dispensers for hire

Sue Clark

“Mom, you’d hire someone to breathe for you if you could.”

This was one of my many taunts to my beleaguered mom. She, too,

had downsized to a condo and had zero mechanical sense. Mom was

always on the lookout for handymen to put in some pavers, build a dog

door, till the soil, you name it. She’d call me from Long Beach and

announce in a Newporty kind of voice, “Honey, I have a man setting up

my answer phone, putting a bookcase together, building a fence,” etc.

I used to call the workmen “rent-a-husbands.”

Part of my daughterly responsibility was to point out the starving

families in Europe who not only did all their own physical labor, but

also could live for a month on the money Mom paid some fellow to

plant her impatiens in a designer container. She ignored me.

Like dinner at someone else’s house, the work seemed especially

sweet to Mom if she didn’t have to do it.

Now that I’ve hired Belinda Linsday, Corona del Mar High School

registrar by day, and professional organizer by night, I know my

daughter is laughing at me in a young adult sort of way that cuts

across the generations.

She called from college the other night to chat, and I told her

“can’t talk right now.”

“I know, I know, Belinda’s there, “ she grumbled. “Why do you hire

someone when you can do that yourself?”

Sure I can. And in about 10 years I might have my stuff put away.

But organized? In baskets? Nails and screws in their proper

container? Never.

Belinda took one look at the mountain of junk strewn throughout

the place and sighed happily. “This is going to be fun.”

I pointed out the couches, which were standing on end, among 20

boxes of books I had read, wouldn’t read again, yet as a lifelong

reader was determined to keep. She ignored my whining and started

bossing me around in a nice way -- as a good teacher will do.

Her first words were, “You seem to have a lot of seasonal stuff.

We’re going to put it all in one bin. Do you have a covered bin?”

“Um, I have some cardboard boxes the Christmas stuff have been in

for 10 years.”

Belinda got a piece of paper and made me write a list of things to

get at Ace Hardware, with covered bins at the top of the list.

“We’re going to put all the electric cords and extensions in this

box,” she said. “And, wow, who knew you had so many scotch tape

dispensers, all of which are going in this Tupperware dish.”

By the end of the first two hours we had the two couches down and

in their proper place in the living room, with enough space cleared

so I could watch TV, eat and sleep. I also had a mile-long list for

Home Depot, Target and Ace Hardware. I was still pretty discouraged

but Belinda could visualize the possibilities.

“In a week, you’ll be just about done except for the second

bedroom,” she prophesized.

“No way,” I whined. Part of the magic Belinda performs is that she

is part organization guru and part personal counselor.

“Oh, yes, you’ll see,” she said.

Another aspect of her personal coaching is her tactful insistence

on my defining my intrinsic values and life path.

“Will you be wanting to keep this hair ornament?” is Belinda’s way

of saying that unless it has extreme personal value, throw the thing

out. The same holds for, “all these paperbacks.”

“Will you be reading them again, or do you think a women’s shelter

would enjoy them?” she asks.

(Note: this does not apply to my complete collection of Elizabeth

George or other quality authors -- this is more like Sweet Valley

High from my daughter’s primary school years).

We’re making big progress. Part of the reason Belinda is so good

at what she does, is that she can visualize what is not there. When I

mentioned the phrase, “everything in its place,” she beamed.

“Yes,” she said, throwing a Christmas wreath into the newly

covered bin. “Everything in its place.”

I can just hear my mother laughing from her condo in the sky, and

feel my daughter rolling her eyes from her minuscule apartment at

UCLA. Truth be told, my daughter sounded interested in Belinda, and

not as judgmental as I had thought she’d be. In fact, I detect

respect for Belinda’s ability to organize in a small space.

Perhaps the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, but if Belinda’s

around, there will be a basket for it.

* SUE CLARK is a Newport Beach resident and a high school guidance

counselor at Creekside High School in Irvine.