AT HOME : Whatever you do, don’t file it under ‘To File’
Posted on Sunday, August 17, 2008
The simple request — “ Mom, I need my birth certificate” — triggered the lost weekend. The minute my 15-year-old finished driver’s education, that paper was all that stood between her and her driver’s permit. (Please send any Valium prescriptions you’re not using. )
“ Your birth certificate ? ” I repeat, stalling because thinking about where it might be hurts.
“ As in proof I was born, ” she says, her tone implying I have the IQ of a flatworm.
“ I’ll just write a note telling them how old you are. ”
“ Mom, the DMV needs real proof because they don’t trust you. ”
And well they shouldn’t. My brain rewinds years, to a time before car seats, tooth fairies, 2 a. m. calls to pediatricians, and endless drives between Brownies, ballet and barns, and tries to recall where in the universe I stuck that little piece of paper that said I now possessed a live birth that would entangle me in more ways than I could imagine for the rest of my life.
“ Okay, but you have to help. ”
She follows me to the garage. “ My birth certificate’s in the garage ?”
“ It’s not personal. Mine should be in here, too. Somewhere. ”
“ They had birth certificates back then ?”
“ You want to drive or not, young lady ?”
I scan the crammed garage, where the file cabinet landed on moving day five years ago, and has since been buried so deeply we need an archaeologist. “ There, ” I point.
“ Seriously ?”
Between us and a twodrawer lateral file lie two bikes, a broken lawn mower, an air compressor, a scooter, four pairs of skis, a set of crutches and a bale of hay. We unearth the cabinet to find it’s locked. “ Swell, ” I say, “ finding Osama bin Laden would be easier than finding the key. ”
“ I bet other families don’t live this way. ”
“ I guarantee you, parents of 15-year-olds all over are going through the same thing. ”
I spy a sledgehammer. “ Stand back. ” I swing it like a wrecking ball into the cabinet’s locked face. It feels good. The lock smashes open. The top drawer rolls out exposing my past: long-expired insurance policies, failed investments, projects from three careers ago, unfinished novels, old resumes, and other papers I once thought important. “ Taa-Daa ! ” I pull out a dogeared file that says “ Birth Certificates” and feel something like redemption.
“ Proud of yourself ?”
“ Yes, actually, ” I say. However, the moment forces me to face not only the awful condition of my personal records, but also of my office files. I then do what I always do when facing a domestic crisis: Shop ! This time I bring home an ugly, four-drawer, upright filing cabinet in vanilla metal.
In my office, I dump contents from all cupboards onto the floor, five years’ worth of resources and articles in every stage of revision and print. I burrow like a prairie dog, making little headway. Someone in my family walks by and throws me a tuna sandwich. After a weekend of sorting and wrecking my nails, I fill four recycle bins, and feel that cleaned out feeling you get after the stomach flu. I then realize: Unless I want to go through this again, (Never !), my habits must change.
I call Kathi Burns, owner of addspacetoyourlife. com, and a San Diego-based paper flow expert. I start by whining: “ But filing takes so much time ! ”
“ Not filing burns a lot more time, ” she says.
“ So you think I need to convert ?”
“ You think you should have to move a lawnmower to get to your birth certificate ? ”
As we talk, I learn ways to thin my files even more. “ People think when they throw something away, it negates their past. That just isn’t true, ” she says, offering these filing tips:
• Know your papers. Every paper falls into one of five categories: action (stuff to deal with soon ), research and reference (stuff you’ll need later ), agreements (insurance policies, contracts ), tax-related stuff (receipts, W-2 s, returns ), and permanent records (birth and marriage certificates; education, medical and property records ). Some people use color coded files for each category, which seems neurotic. I divided categories by file drawer and location.
• Create AAA filing systems. Active files for home and work go on your desk. Consider a small, spacesaving vertical file. At Hand files of often-needed reference should be in easy reach. Archive files can go in a closet or basement.
• Remove and Replace. When the new versions of certain documents — insurance policies, and Social Security and investment statements — arrive, toss the old.
• Thin it. I’m a magazine junkie. Some I plan to read; others contain articles I’ve written. Burns lightened my life with this advice: Tear off the cover, tear out the article you want to save, toss the magazine. Wow. My magazine stack shrunk by 98 percent.
• Trust technology. Old habits compelled me to keep a hard copy of stuff stored on my computer. But if you have a good backup system, you’re covered. Really.
• Ask before you hoard. When tempted to save an article or brochure, ask whether you could easily find more current information online later ? If so, let go.
• Bust paper before it gets in. Open mail over the trash. Shred credit card offers, pay stubs and other sensitive docs. File what matters. “ Don’t shove papers in a ‘ To File’ file, ” says Burns. “ That’s as bad as a ‘ Miscellaneous’ file. ”
Syndicated columnist Marni Jameson is the author of “ The House Always Wins ” (Da Capo ), available through Amazon and Barnes & Noble. You may contact her through www. marnijameson. com.
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