I look around the room, appalled by the mess. But I was expecting something like that—maybenot to that extent—something horrible. People don’t call me unless they are really needed some professional help.

Here, the problems is obvious to me. There is jo more floor. Everything they own is covering the flooor, and the furniture but the real problem right now is the ground.

If you can’t step into a room without crushing something …

I roll up my sleeves, metaphorically an physically and I turn toward the couple who looks at me with such hope in their eyes.

“You realize I’m not here to “do” that. Right?”

Their faces fell. “You’re not. Then who?”

“You are. I’m just here to help, support, and sometimes whip some sense into you.”

They look at me like they don’t know the language I’m using.

I sigh.

“Okay. You too have to get down to it. Here are two bins. One on the right for anything you don’t want to keep, one on the left for the stuff you will want to keep.” I held out my hands. “But there is a catch. Tor each thing, however small, you put in the keeping things bin, you have to throw out three things. Do you understand.”

Now they look at me like I’m crazy. I know that look. I have seen it in so many faces before theirs. As a professional home organizer, and a damn good one, I’m now almost called by—or for—people who thinks they are lost causes.

But I always get results. I always come out on top, and so do they. This is their win in the end. I get to come home to my tiny house with minimalistic possessions. They live in their result. They should be proud.

Today is going to be a hard one. The way they look at me makes me think they have no clue about why they are doing this. But I’m going to help them. I always do. That’s why I’m the best at what I do.