The 'O' Word

The 'O' Word

Growing up, there was one word we kids refused to say. We simply called it, "The O Word". We considered the repercussions of this word to be worse than any other. The mere mention of it sent us into spasms of fear.

At least – everyone except Aunt Agatha. She did not fear the O Word. In fact, she spoke it regularly. Out loud.

She loved the shock value of it. All she had to do was whisper the word and we kids scattered into dark corners faster than litters of cockroaches.

We did not stay in our dark corners for long, though. After a few hours, we knew the mayhem was over and we had to take a gander at the incredible things the O Word had accomplished:

Closets were color-coordinated. Bathroom supplies were containerized. Videos were alphabetized. Life was made easier through Aunt Agatha's o-o-o-o- I can almost say it. O-o-o-organization.

When I grew up, I no longer had Aunt Agatha to help me with The O Word. Last week, I realized my house had what the Fly Lady calls "CHAOS – Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome."

Granted, the house itself looked clean. But I was afraid for the lives of my guests, should they open my coat closet and sustain a fatal wound.

I knew it was time to roll up my sleeves. Closet by closet, drawer by drawer, shelf by shelf – I implemented what I had secretly watched Aunt Agatha do from my dark corner.

I used the O Word.

I still feel like I should wash my mouth out with soap. But one week, 3 broken nails and 265 plastic containers later, my house resembles something Aunt Agatha would be proud of.

Now where's that soap?