This morning, I faced the piles of documents and paperwork that had been shoved on top of the filing box. There was a large pile of passports, envelopes, payslips, tax documents, MOT certificates, insurance documents, prescription copies and, for some reason, an elderly slipper.
I was going to write that I can’t quite figure out how we can get it to the filing box, but not actually get it into the filing box, but actually, I can. The filing box, which is a Really Useful Box with suspension files, is on a shelf, behind a curtain, behind a bedside table. It’s not conducive to prompt filing of paperwork as it arrives. Instead, I reach through the curtain and toss the latest thing to arrive onto the pile. I have good intentions of coming back soon to put it in the proper filing wallet, but the curtain hides a multitude of sins and the pile keeps on growing until someone needs a copy of a P60 or proof of address or an A level certificate and has to wade through, not only the filing system, but its decorative mound of unfiled paper.
A better system would support better habits, here. Unfortunately, until I deal with the whole ‘spare room’ issue, the box has nowhere else to go. I’ve added this to the ‘to do’ book: Find accessible home for filing box.
After scraping my knuckles on the self above and giving myself another back injury dragging the box over the top of the bedside table, I sorted all the paperwork into piles, filed the things that need to be kept and put everything else into the bag for shredding or burning in the chiminea.
For a little while, at least, even if I can’t sleep easy, knowing that I am not going to be engulfed by a tidal wave of Red Alert letters about our endowment policy, it’s one less thing to worry about.