I am addicted to the cable channel TLC and their newest home makeovers show “Clean Sweep.” If you haven’t seen it yet, the premise is a large crew of designers, carpenters, organizers and staff show up at a notorious packrat’s home for two days of sorting, throwing, (crying), selling, painting, building and revealing. The train wreck part of the show is the opening, when the piles of dirty laundry, children’s toys, games, videos and assorted memorabilia that these homeowners can’t seem to manage or part with is exposed.

The next most dramatic element is watching the havoc that is wrought as husband and wife sort through their lives and emotions. What is clearly demonstrated through this exercise is that our possessions aren’t just stuff, but symbols of our deeper, unspoken emotions, completely intertwined; be it love, accomplishment, envy, inspiration or sadness.

What I can identify with most of all are the clear, detached and rational organizers. Very adept at honing in on the core reason the object of debate is important, they invent ways to honor the emotions AND clear the space. A baby crib is donated to a needy family that has just adopted a baby. A grandmother’s chair is steam cleaned and re-inserted in the space and looks great. Family photos are sorted, organized and made accessible for regular viewing.

When the final design is revealed on the second day, the space is beautiful, organized AND useful to the family.

The real reason I am addicted to this show is that I am an organization nut myself. I was organizing my board games, dolls and books when I was in elementary school. Yet, I wonder if I was switched at birth, based on how tightly my parents and siblings hold onto and hoard their belongings. When I visit my parents, the stacks of mail overwhelm me; coupons and newspapers piled high all over the kitchen. The guest room, formerly my youngest sister’s room, is still loaded down with her artwork, materials, books and clothes. My last visit, I made my mom cry when in a fit of uncontrollable organization, I ravaged her magazine stacks, encouraging her to throw away her collection of Ladies Home Journal from 1988 that she still hadn’t read.

I have visions of showing up at my parents’ home with the Clean Sweep team and knocking back a few rooms in a weekend, then inviting them back the next weekend to complete the job. I’ve even tried to initiate a faux Clean Sweep event, my siblings and I taking on the role of the crew. I received a counter-offer from “the kids” (all over 25) that they would retrieve their belongings from our parents’ home “sometime” this winter. Still I dream of a day when I will visit my parents and their bedroom will look like a normal master bedroom and not a strange laundry mat that caters only to the owners of unmatched socks, acid washed jeans and used baby clothes.

Last week, inspired from visiting my parents, I sorted, tossed and donated, playing both roles: Clean Sweep Organizer and Homeowner. I forced myself to address my own stealth collection of Oprah and Southern Living magazines (at least 3 years worth). I requested that I throw away fifty percent of my stock (a common tactic on the show is to have to reduce a particular category by 50-60%). I filled four paper bags. Next I tackled a rack of suits and dresses that I will never wear again. Triumphant, I delivered four bags to Goodwill. My clothing stock has been reduced by 25%!!

I then asked myself to open a few drawers that had somehow become my memory box. “What does that object represent?” I asked myself as I picked up twenty strands of Mardi Gras beads from the 2000 Sugar Bowl. The response: “My friends, a great vacation and a significant week for my college and the world.” “Ok, you can keep four of the most fantastic and store them where you can see them,” said the organizer. Whew, this organizer chick is ruthless. Out went about twenty strands of beads….to tell you the truth I haven’t missed them.

You get the idea. It is a wonderful freeing experience, to see all those piles of trash at the curb, to walk through my clean, sorted and organized house and know the closets have no skeletons! Ok, my six boxes of photographs need sorting, my closet could use another pass and my book collection is way over the top. But all in all, I think the Clean Sweep Team would be proud.