(Grammar note. Disposition is, technically speaking, according to every reliable source I checked, a noun. Only a noun. I’m using it as a verb. That is all.)

On Tuesday, frustrated because I couldn’t find an article I knew I’d saved, I spent the morning (and, to be honest, a large part of the afternoon as well) going though all my bookmarks and all the links contained therein. I deleted countless old links, kept what is relevant to me now and organized it in a meaningful way.

On a roll, I went through my email inbox – my ENTIRE inbox – and dealt with everything. (So if you are waiting for a reply, you better resend. I am under the delusion that I’ve answered you.) Still fired up, I went through all the links I’d saved on Twitter and dispositioned them. (I love that word. Dispositioned. I can’t believe it only exists in the minds of the people who work at the company where I learned it. I took it with me when I left. Dispositioned. It makes me sound like an organization goddess.)

I can’t tell you how good I felt when all of that was done. And, like right after you clean your house, I’m feeling very protective of my virtual space – folding everything neatly, putting it away. No unsightly piles lying around. It’s been a whole day, and still I’m golden. My sense of accomplishment is outrageous. Totally disproportionate to the significance of the task… and yet…

I have this feeling you will read this and feel envy. You’ll think, I can’t remember the last time I saw the floor of my inbox. It’s always covered in unopened messages and old smelly links. (Not sure this laundry metaphor is quite working, but I’m hoping you’re still with me.) I have a feeling that my straw-that-broke-the-camel’s-back sense of urgency, and the subsequent frenzied cleanup is something we’ve all experienced.

And maybe I’m looking for a little solidarity. A virtual pat on the back. Wait a second. Let me turn around.

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