Nana used to label everything. Fridge and freezer filled with containers. Each had a thin line of masking tape across them. Names written in black ink. Mostly Italian, sometimes broken English. My favorite being the grep gely.
Her bedroom closet had each gift she ever received. Each item still in the original box. A small square of notepaper. The gifter’s name written across along with the date received. Attached with a silver straight pin.
I think I affix more labels to myself than to actual things. I’m female. I’m a daughter. A sister. A granddaughter. A niece. A wife. An aunt. A friend.
You can call me Maria or Mia. I’m more of a Mia though. I also answer to ITGurl, Tinks, Tinkerbell, Wife, Wifey, Sister Wife, Chickie, Aunt Mia, Mi, and MiMi. My 3 year old niece calls me that. My Mimi. It gives me the feels.
I proudly fly my geek flag. I am a Star Wars fan, a Whovian, and a LEGO addict. But I digress.
I have purchased an adoption binder. It comes with its own checklist. It has page protectors. It has dividers. Even pocket folders!
It is waiting for me to fill it. Every time I open it, I just stare. Blankly. Like the dividers. I don’t know where to start. I haven’t decided how to organize it.
I suppose there really isn’t a wrong way. Perhaps I’ll add a protective sleeve and pocket folder to each divider. I have accumulated some paperwork from our lawyer. That seems like a good place to start. I will start there. I can always adjust the dividers and pockets as needed. Perhaps let the paperwork guide me to how it needs organized. Maybe I’ll see how other are doing it.
This has been a response to today’s Daily Prompt: Label