Remember a while back when I wrote about my friend who’s a personal organizer? You ‘member, ‘member? (Sorry, too much George Lopez before bedtime.)

Anyhow, today, after I postponed three times, Ruth Ellen came over for a free consultation. I disobeyed her even before she got here — she said on her website not to clean before her visit, but I did. Like a dervish. I left alone the worst rooms, however. If I knew what to do with them, I wouldn’t need Ruth Ellen’s help.

Ruth Ellen is a very kind and gentle person. I’ve known her for years. Still I expected a personal organizer to wear a white glove, like a mother-in-law on a Pledge commercial. I expected her to look in all my closets and bathroom cabinets. I expected a lot of tsk-tsk and head shaking. Instead, she sat at my dining room table and said, “How can I help you?”

I did NOT want my friend to clean out the avalanchy tupperware cabinet or the nasty shampoo bottle heap. What I wanted was a master plan. I feel as if we’re drowning in clutter here, and I want to make it better. But I get so overwhelmed, I don’t even know where to start.

So Ruth Ellen and I went room to room, starting with the worst — the play room. I should call it Toy Cemetery because once toys go in there, my kids never play with them again. I showed her the Jethro Room, named in honor of our favorite Beverly Hillbilly. I showed her my “office,” which is in quotes because it’s a storage heap. And I showed her Boy’s room, where a constant battle of plastic soldiers rages on the floor. Better them than Boy and me, so I leave that room alone.

In each room we talked about the people who use it and what we want to get out of it. She made great suggestions — clear plastic bags for storage in Boy’s room so he could see all his stuff. A table for Girl so she could do her artwork on a bigger space. Turning the play room into a master closet for Bob and me, and the Jethro Room into a play room. Turning my “office” into what it really is, a storage room, only with a better storage system. She had some catalogs to show me what kind of shelving and storage bins might work. She talked Wal-Mart and Home Depot — my kind of stores.

Ruth Ellen took into account my real family and our wacky house. The plan we developed won’t require us to turn into perfect people living in a perfect house. In other words, we can be who we are, and we can keep most of our stuff. It’ll just look a lot better, and hopefully, we’ll be a lot happier with it.

After Ruth Ellen left, I tried her kind, helpful approach on Boy. We started tackling his room, picking up the soldiers and moving stuff so the big antique desk from my “office” can fit in his room, and he can get a hand-me-down computer.

“Mom, this is fun,” Boy said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I never thought cleaning could be fun.”

Me neither. Thank you, Ruth Ellen!

FYI: Here’s her website.