Before I begin...

I earn my living speaking. I feel alive when delivering motivational, energetic presentations to enthused audiences. Yet the irony is I spend most of my time isolated, without employees, working from an office in my house while my family is gone. Hour after hour slides by as I tap relentlessly on keyboard, stare at computer monitor, and write - alone.

Leading a solitary life, I have learned to be somewhat organized; I have no staff to assist me. Granted, I periodically curse and rant when I cannot find that which I seek because of poor filing. Gratefully, I am not on the other end of the spectrum bellowing, "Where are my glasses?" only to have my wife call back, "You're wearing them."

As I said, I keep things in their place - mostly.

That does not forgo within me an interest in improving my organizational skills. Therefore I made an appointment with a professional organizer. These dedicated denizens of domestic direction and design are on the front lines in the battle against entropy; expanding our horizons with hanging files, work zones, and paper flow. The results, I'm informed, are increased productivity, less stress, and a "reclaiming of one's space." This I find to be a highly respectable goal because credit card receipts, unsolicited faxes, and projects I'll do "one of these days" too often claim my space and battle to take it back. (As an aside, I found assurance - and humor - in the fact that the Professional Organizer lost my address.)

Yet, I digress.

Before her arrival, I found myself busily straightening my workspace, shredding papers, dusting shelves, and lugging boxes. Somewhere between chronologically ordering my CD collection, and using a ruler to make sure all wall hangings were parallel and equally spaced, the folly of my operation struck me.

I need her help but act as if I don't. I did not want her to realize my flaws. Gasp! She'll think I'm human!

It brought me back to promising I would return to my weight loss meetings AFTER I lost "those five pounds." Huh? How'd that work the last 16 times I did that? Do I truly believe people can't tell I'm having trouble on my diet unless I seek help? I hefted a 44-inch belly, and convinced myself that holding in my stomach would fool others to believe I had six-pack abs. Amazing how we can fool ourselves, isn't it?

Even powerful people have needs. Admit it. Embrace it. Correct it. It's actually surprisingly empowering to "own" who you are.

Oops, gotta go. I just noticed the maid is coming and I have to clean the house before she arrives.