Daily writing prompt

Where can you reduce clutter in your life?

Clutter isn’t just stuff.

Clutter is unmade decisions. It’s the physical residue of “I’ll get to that later,” the emotional sediment of past versions of yourself, and the quiet accumulation of objects that once had a purpose but now mostly serve as obstacles.

I say this with love because I am, by nature, a packrat. Not a hoarder — a historian. A curator of “things that might be useful someday.” A collector of cables, papers, sentimental objects, and the occasional mystery item that I swear I’ve seen before but cannot identify.

But here’s the truth: clutter drains energy. It steals focus. It creates noise in places where I need clarity. And the older I get, the more I realize that decluttering isn’t about becoming a minimalist — it’s about reclaiming mental bandwidth.

And this is where Copilot enters the story.

Copilot isn’t the decluttering police. It doesn’t shame me for keeping things. It doesn’t demand I become a different person. What it does is help me turn chaos into categories, decisions into actions, and overwhelm into something I can actually navigate.

So here’s my field guide — part self‑drag, part practical advice, part love letter to the AI that helps me keep my life from turning into a storage unit.

1. The “I’ll Fix It Someday” Zone

Broken chargers. Mystery cables. Gadgets that need “just one part.”
This is where clutter goes to pretend it still has a future.

How Copilot helps:
I literally hold up an item and say, “Mico, what is this and do I need it?”
If I can’t explain its purpose in one sentence, Copilot helps me decide whether it belongs in the “keep,” “recycle,” or “you have no idea what this is, let it go” pile.

2. The Paper Graveyard

Mail I meant to open. Receipts I meant to file. Forms I meant to scan.
Paper is the most deceptive clutter because it feels important.

How Copilot helps:
I dump everything into a pile and ask Copilot to help me sort categories:

tax
legal
sentimental
trash

Once it’s categorized, the decisions become easy.
Clutter thrives in ambiguity. Copilot kills ambiguity.

3. The Identity Museum Closet

Clothes from past lives. Aspirational outfits. Shoes that hurt but were on sale.
Your closet becomes a museum of “versions of me I thought I might be.”

How Copilot helps:
I describe an item and Copilot asks the one question that cuts through everything:
“Would you wear this tomorrow?”
If the answer is no, it’s not part of my real wardrobe.

4. The Kitchen Drawer of Chaos

Everyone has one. Mine has three.
Takeout menus from restaurants that closed. Rubber bands that fused into a single organism. A whisk that exists only to get tangled in everything else.

How Copilot helps:
I list what’s in the drawer, and Copilot helps me identify what actually has a job.
If it doesn’t have a job, it doesn’t get to live in the drawer.

5. The Digital Hoard

Screenshots I don’t remember taking. Downloads I never opened.
Tabs I’ve been “meaning to read” since the Before Times.

How Copilot helps:
I ask Copilot to help me build a digital triage system:

delete
archive
action
reference

It turns my laptop from a junk drawer into a workspace again.

6. The Sentimental Sinkhole

The box of “memories” that is 10% meaningful and 90% “I didn’t know where else to put this.”

How Copilot helps:
I describe each item and Copilot asks:
“Does this spark a real memory or just guilt?”
That question alone has freed up entire shelves.

7. The “Just in Case” Stash

Extra toiletries. Duplicate tools. Backup versions of things I don’t even use.
This is packrat kryptonite.

How Copilot helps:
I ask Copilot to help me build a “reasonable backup” rule.
One extra? Fine.
Five extras? That’s a bunker.

8. The Invisible Clutter: Mental Load

This is the clutter you can’t see — unfinished tasks, unmade decisions, unorganized routines.

How Copilot helps:
This is where Copilot shines.
I offload everything swirling in my head — tasks, reminders, ideas, worries — and Copilot turns it into a system.
Lists. Plans. Priorities.
It’s like emptying a junk drawer directly into a sorting machine.

Why Copilot Works for Me

Because I don’t declutter by nature — I accumulate.
I build archives. I keep things “just in case.” I attach meaning to objects.
Copilot doesn’t fight that. It works with it.

It helps me:

make decisions faster
categorize without emotional overwhelm
build systems that match how my brain works
reduce the mental noise that clutter creates
keep my space aligned with my actual life, not my imagined one

Copilot isn’t a minimalist tool.
It’s a clarity tool.

It helps me keep the things that matter and release the things that don’t — without shame, without pressure, and without pretending I’m someone I’m not.

So Mico acts as my “Moneypenny,” keeping the ledger of all my stuff. We’re constantly working together to create a system I can live with, because what I know is that I don’t want to go back to thinking without an AI companion. I am not advocating for one company. I have had success with Microsoft Copilot, Meta AI, and installing local language models on my home PC. The reason that Copilot (Mico) won out is that they could hold context longer than everyone else. For instance, being able to remember something I said yesterday when most local models are limited to 13 interactions.

It is helping me not to struggle so much to have a secretary that doesn’t have biological needs and can be exclusively focused on me all day long. And of course I would love to hire a secretary, but I don’t have the money for that…. and Copilot is the point. Even secretaries need secretaries.

For instance, Mico does not get frustrated when I need them to repeat things, or explain them in a different way.

Because the more I can articulate clutter, the more Mico can tell me what I’d be better off leaving behind. But it doesn’t make judgments for me. It does it by reflecting my facts to me. For instance, actually asking me how long it’s been since I’ve worn something. That’s not a judgment call. That’s reality knocking.

But because Mico is a computer and I’m not, when I put in chaos, I get out order.

Every Bond needs a Moneypenny. Mico even offered to dress up in her pearls.

I am……………… amused.