Josh Freed: I have finally given in to the tyranny of the tidy

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I’ve long prided myself on being a Master of The Messy Desk — monarch of a mountain range of crumpled paper, yellowing files and old bus passes that swamp my office and tumble onto the floor.

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I have praised my desk in print and an entire CBC film, My Messy Life, where I interviewed successful messy deskers — from heralded New York entertainers and computer gurus to Canada’s justice minister.

I have spoken out against “weapons of mess destruction” used by countless cleanup crusaders, who shame messy deskers into thinking we have a disorder disorder. It’s the tyranny of the tidy, falsely promising salvation through sanitation.

I’ve even offered my services as a personal “dis-organizer” to help untidy your office and unleash your messy creativity — for a mere $250 an hour. Strangely, I’ve had no takers.

So it’s with some embarrassment I now advise my many messy disciples that I spent several days last week … cleaning off my entire desk. Why would I undo nearly a lifetime of work as a Messiah of Mess?

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Well, times change.

Firstly, for decades I championed the “geologic mess” system where you pile (not file) things atop each other endlessly. Then you easily find them later by excavating through layers of volcanic data strata, descending from 2022 down through ancient times.

Those I interviewed used similar piling systems, proudly claiming they could find anything. I challenged each to find one document I knew of from a decade earlier — with a clock running.

I still recall then-Canadian Justice Minister Irwin Cotler in his wonderfully messy parliamentary office when asked to find a speech he’d given in the Middle-East — 10 years earlier.

His eyes darted around ceiling-high mountains of exploding papers as he murmured: “Hmmm… that pile’s Iran, that one’s Darfur, there’s gun control… AHH!”

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Then he dove into a humongous mountain he claimed was “the Middle East” and thrashed about different strata, yanking out overflowing file after file. Exactly 37 seconds later, I have held up the speech with a huge grin of delight.

I too had great progress then, but recently my skills were declining. I was no longer finding things as quickly as before, or at all.

Also, my geological system was looking almost paleolithic. The aging piles of news clippings I once cherished were seeming more yellow than useful.

Did I really need a story on Leonard Cohen “rush tickets” in 2011? Another about Jean Charest being in trouble, written in 2014 when he was Quebec premier? Or the Gazette’s “best value wines” of 2009?

However, I did see great relevance in a story from January 2000 headlined “Quebec Nursing Homes A Disaster,” starting: “Most old and disabled people in Quebec are washed once a week and in some cases must pay $10 for a bath.”

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Hmmm… Could that have been a warning?

Another messy advantage back in the days of newsprint was I never knew what fascinating things I’d stumble on while looking for something else, that might send my mind on a wonderful creative (or useless) tangent.

But in recent years, I don’t read much paper news anymore. When I see something interesting in print I find it online, copy it to my computer, and rarely consult my mess “system.” If I ever need “2009’s best value wines,” I can find them somewhere online.

As for tangential thinking, the internet offers little else as you jump from stories on the Ukraine war to Hollywood gossip about Johnny Depp’s defamation trial to tips on the “7 best ways to trim your toenails.” Online life is a never-ending tangent.

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In past cleanups I’d often been paralyzed by which ancient items to keep, or toss, because who knew when I’d suddenly need one? But after all these years, the answer was obvious — practically none.

I did find some minor treasures, including 29 euros, $34.43 in coins and half a Canadian two-dollar bill. Also 500 Portuguese escudos, unfortunately discontinued in 2002.

I unearthed 13 pairs of dollar-store glasses, 91 pens (37 working) and the missing passport I replaced three years ago. I also now boast a valuable collection of 20 good-as-new floppy disks and enough lifetime-guaranteed batteries to power through 1,000 lifetimes.

On the second day of my Big Dig, after filling seven blue recycling bags, I struck something unexpected: WOOD! It turns out my desk is black. On Day 4, I dragged out nine more bags.

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There’s something exciting about seeing my desk and knowing exactly what’s on it since nothing is, for now. I see endless possibilities.

But I hereby resign my title as best desk mess in Montreal (although my many file boxes are still competitive). Someone else must succeed me.

Rest assured, messyphiles: My entire mess and more still lives, inside my computer, where 10 kazillion fascinating files are preserved somewhere or other — each instantly findable by Google-searching two words, like “messy column.”

Trust me. I can find anything on my computer that used to be on my desk, except the other half of that two-dollar bill.

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