Do you have a spot?

Well, we do.

It's right above the dishwasher in our kitchen.

Catches all kinds of stuff, so it does.

Newspapers get set there.

As does mail - more often than not bills.

And then there is the weekly grocery list. It's kept in the spot, too.

So are cards, long after they've been opened.

The thing is, I hate our spot.

I hate stuff collecting there.

I'm kind of anal retentive that way. A place for everything and everything has a place.

I'd like to blame Mrs. Gennings for the placement of stuff on the spot but I can't.

First of all, I'm just as guilty of plopping stuff there as she is. And, secondly, if I did try to blame her she'd wallop me one right in the nose.

And besides, we both try to keep the spot neat.

We do throw out the old newspapers.

We pay the bills.

Oh, and the cards? Well, eventually they get tossed also.

The grocery list, though, it always seems to be there. Ready for the next trip to the Food-o-Mart.

The thing of it is, we can arrange and tidy the spot several times a week - and oh how we do - but it doesn't seem to really matter.

No sooner is the spot looking clear of bric-a-brac and then something appears, almost like it was beamed to our kitchen counter from the Starship Debris.

And then something else shows up.

And then the spot is back to looking like it did just a short time ago: like a deposit location for stuff in holding until transport to its final destination. Sort of like a corral for clutter if you will.

Now I detest the spot so much, given my fastidious ways, that when Mrs. Gennings beats me to tidying it up I get as giddy a school girl.

"You cleaned the spot!" I've been known to scream with glee. "Put away the stuff?! Oh goodie-gumdrops with a candle on top."

For added effect, I've even been known to sometimes clap my hands.

Mrs. Gennings, however, just rolls her eyes and then walks away.

And, as I've already said, within a short while, the spot is looking less like a counter and more like a paper pile.

Because of this, I am thinking of taking a picture of our spot after it's tidied up and then framing the picture and placing it on the spot.

Mrs. Gennings thinks this idea is downright silly.

"No, you most certainly are not!" she says whenever I bring up the picture taking notion.

But despite her opposition, I believe the idea has merit.

If we can't keep the spot tidy at all times, at least we can have a picture of what it looks like - especially if company comes by unexpectedly.

"Oh look how tidy your spot is sometimes," they might say upon seeing the framed picture.

All of this said I guess things could be worse.

We just have the spot to worry about. But for others, they aren't so lucky. They're like what might be termed messyaholics.

These folks even have their own website: click the link to find it.

Yep.

I'm not making this up!

The site bills itself as The Encouragement Place. Adding that: Messies Anonymous has help for you.

Visitors to the site can access free daily coaching and join self-help groups.

"Maybe you feel overwhelmed. That's the way we all start. Follow a few simple, powerful steps that we in Messies Anonymous call our Flight Plan."

Now it all sounds a bit much to me, but I guess for some there is a need.

I wish there was something like this for my Little Brudder when we were growing up.

Guy was a first rate slob.

His bedroom, known around the family abode as The Land of Mess, was so bad that once a team of slobologists from the University of Toronto did a field exam in it.

Don't believe me?

Now come on, would I lie to you about my loveable Little Brudder?

On that note I have to go.

It seems that a magazine and a pack of gum is cluttering up the spot.

Drats.

Michael Gennings is a reporter for The Stayner Sun. Feedback is welcome at mgennings@simcoe.com.