Peter Walsh's Life-Changing Desk Makeover
Using the principles he'll be outlining on Enough Already, Peter Walsh recently whipped an O editor's chaotic cubicle into shape.
By Crystal Martin
Crystal's Desk, After
Next, Walsh asked me, "What do you want from your desk?" I blanked. I'm not the type of person who describes a space in terms of the feelings it evokes. But according to Walsh, you need to describe your vision before you can create a space that embodies it. Recalling all those lost phone numbers, I decided I wanted a desk that exuded calm. "But it should still be cheery!" I told him.
We began sorting. Anything that didn't conjure cheeriness or calm was chucked or given away. Those guiding words made every object's keep-ability a simple yes or no proposition, but a few items still gave me pause. As I attempted to file several greeting cards from my mother, Walsh stopped me. "You don't need those," he said. "But," I protested, "they're from my mom." He put it firmly: "Say it with me—'These cards are not my mother.'" I tossed them, resolving to do the same with the many piles of not-my-mother currently cluttering my apartment.
After sifting through my entire cubicle, Walsh placed things I used every day an arm's length away; rarely used items were banished to "archive" drawers behind my desk. I promised that I'd deal with packages as I opened them—no more postponing. With that, he shook my hand and left me to enjoy my newly pristine work area.
We began sorting. Anything that didn't conjure cheeriness or calm was chucked or given away. Those guiding words made every object's keep-ability a simple yes or no proposition, but a few items still gave me pause. As I attempted to file several greeting cards from my mother, Walsh stopped me. "You don't need those," he said. "But," I protested, "they're from my mom." He put it firmly: "Say it with me—'These cards are not my mother.'" I tossed them, resolving to do the same with the many piles of not-my-mother currently cluttering my apartment.
After sifting through my entire cubicle, Walsh placed things I used every day an arm's length away; rarely used items were banished to "archive" drawers behind my desk. I promised that I'd deal with packages as I opened them—no more postponing. With that, he shook my hand and left me to enjoy my newly pristine work area.
Published 12/14/2010