Where Do You Start? Anywhere That's Calling You.

Where Do You Start? Anywhere That's Calling You.

It's one of the most common questions in organizing. Where do I start?

The honest answer is that it depends — and not in the way that feels like a non-answer. It genuinely depends on what kind of stuck you are. There's the person who knows exactly which spaces are driving them crazy and just needs to decide which one to tackle first. And there's the person who is so overwhelmed by the whole picture that the question of where to start is itself the barrier. Those are different problems and they have different answers.

Start with the first type, because that's where most of the real work happens.

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The Area That's Been Bugging You the Most

There's always one. The space you can't stop noticing. The cabinet that catches your eye every time you walk past it. The drawer you've been avoiding opening. The corner that somehow makes the entire room feel disorganized no matter what else you've done around it.

That's where I start. Not because it's necessarily the most practical choice, but because it's the one that's already consuming mental energy. Every time you see it and don't deal with it, it costs something — a small pull of attention, a low-grade frustration, a reminder that the thing is still there waiting. At a certain point the cost of not starting exceeds the effort of starting. That's usually when it stops being avoidable.

Two of our downstairs cabinets had reached that point. Both were cluttered messes. Both had become catch-alls for unrelated things. No matter how organized I kept everything around them, the overall area still felt disorganized — because it was. The cabinets were the problem and they weren't going to stop being the problem until I dealt with them directly.

Once I did, one became dedicated entirely to baking books and supplies. The other took gardening supplies and a few other items with a clear category. The stuff that didn't belong went elsewhere. The spaces that had been pulling at my attention for months stopped pulling.

The same thing happened more recently with our office and art supplies. The area had gotten out of hand — supplies spread across multiple locations, categories mixed together, no clear system holding any of it. I sorted everything out using whatever cabinet space was available to collect emerging categories as they appeared. Everything paper together. Everything folders together. Writing implements together. Anything that wasn't office or art supplies went into its own pile to find a home elsewhere.

Within those categories, like items went together — colored pencils with colored pencils, watercolor pencils separate, spiral notebooks together, binders together. Then the assessment: does an existing bin hold all of this? Does the bin fit the cabinet? Once that was answered, placement followed. And once everything was placed, something unexpected became visible — there was a lot of space left. Enough to bring the excess office supplies from downstairs up to be integrated, and the printer paper from another cabinet in to join it. Everything of that type in one place. The downstairs cabinet freed up entirely.

At no point was there much to get rid of. The problem was never too much stuff. It was stuff without a system.

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The Accidental Start

Sometimes organizing happens because you were looking for something else entirely.

A friend mentioned recently that he'd always wanted the ZZ Top keychain. I used to have one. I was pretty sure I still had it. I knew if it was anywhere it would be in one of two collectibles bins — bins that go back decades and haven't been added to in years. So I opened them up for the first time in a long time and pulled everything out.

I didn't find the keychain. What I found instead were bins that were no longer organized — things looked like they'd been dumped in rather than placed. Joe Camel and Marlboro collectibles mixed in with Star Wars items mixed in with shot glasses from a cross-country road trip in 1980 mixed in with old comic books. Categories that had once been distinct had blurred together over time.

So before putting it all back, I ran through SADP. Sorted everything by category. Assessed what was there. Decided how to arrange it. Placed it back in a way that made sense — Star Wars cards re-banded, shot glasses rewrapped into tighter rolls, like items together. By the time it was done, everything fit back into one bin. The second bin was freed up for hockey jerseys and a few items from a previous job that had been sharing space without reason.

I went looking for a keychain and came back with two organized bins. The start was accidental. The result was real.

That's worth noting for anyone who thinks they need a plan before they can begin. Sometimes the start finds you. You open something to look for something else and you can see what needs attention. The SADP instinct kicks in and the work happens almost on its own. You don't always need to schedule the start. Sometimes you just need to open the bin.

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The Quick Win

The other place I start is wherever I can feel the impact fastest.

These are usually high-activity areas — a desktop, a kitchen counter, a bathroom surface, a shelf you interact with every day. Not because they're the most important spaces in the house, but because improving them is immediately felt. You use them constantly. When they're cluttered they create friction every time. When they're clear they create a small moment of ease every time. The feedback loop is fast and the motivation it generates can carry into harder areas.

A cleared counter doesn't fix everything. But it changes the feeling of the space in a way that makes the next thing feel more possible. Sometimes that's exactly what's needed to keep momentum going.

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For the Person Who Can't Find a Starting Point at All

If none of the above feels accessible — if the whole picture is so overwhelming that choosing where to start is itself the obstacle — then the answer is simpler and less strategic.

Just pick something up.

It doesn't matter what. A piece of paper. A nail polish bottle. A crafting tool. A magazine. A dirty dish. Pick it up, give it a category, and set it down in a pile. Then pick up something else. Does it belong with the first category? Put it in that pile. Does it belong somewhere else? Start a new pile and name it. Keep going.

Don't overthink the categories. Don't worry about whether you're doing it right. Don't wait until you have a system. The system reveals itself through the sorting. The clarity comes from the movement.

You already know which areas are driving you the most crazy. You already know which spaces keep you from focusing on what matters. The only thing standing between where you are and the start is the first item you pick up.

So pick up anything. And start.