Linda Rothschild is in business to supply what New Yorkers most want. (No, it’s not what you’re thinking.) She sells, in a sense, time and space. And who doesn’t need more of those two precious commodities?

Ms. Rothschild is a professional organizer. She runs a business called Cross It Off Your List, and that’s what she helps her clients do. More specifically, she and her team help busy people pack up their homes, organize photo albums, clean out garages, set up files, pay bills, find wayward dry cleaning, run errands, or wait for deliveries.

It’s almost like having a genie in a bottle, except, of course, Ms. Rothschild’s services are not free. She charges clients $85 an hour to organize or move them, and $65 an hour to provide “lifestyle management.” If your life is really a mess, and you need the personal services of Ms. Rothschild herself, you have to pay $150 an hour, but the premium is undoubtedly worth it.

In case you think this is a small-time business, think again. Ms. Rothschild frequently jets to Los Angeles to help some especially addled or messy entertainment types, or organizing a transcontinental move for an overburdened family in the heartland.

How does someone get into this esoteric (but booming) field? By accident, of course. Like most people, Ms. Rothschild’s career path has been anything but a straightaway. She initially ran and owned beauty salons in the Garment District. A breakup with a longtime beau and the illness of a family member propelled her to an extended stay in Europe. When she returned, her main ambition was to stay busy.

For years, Ms. Rothschild had carried around an index card listing chores to be done. Suddenly, her friends were adding their needs to her list, and asking her help in crossing them off. The business “took off immediately,” according to Ms. Rothschild. “People always have too much to do.”

Soon, Ms. Rothschild found herself president of the National Association of Professional Organizers. (Of course, there would be an organization.) Imagine the pressure. Heaven forbid you call a meeting of the executive committee and forget to have water on the table, or you misplace the agenda. It would be like running the American Dental Association and having crooked teeth.

The organization is celebrating its 20th anniversary as “The Organizing Authority,” according to its Web site, and has today more than 3,000 members. Its purpose is to help organizers expand their businesses and to network. On the Web site, there are helpful messages such as yesterday’s tip of the day, which advises standing when someone walks into your office, thereby likely cutting short the visit by discomforting the interloper. Also, the Web site helps potential customers find a well-matched organizer.

That is, the disorganized are asked to enter a ZIP code, but also to list particular interests, which may include altering a home to comply with the rules of Feng Shui, or re-engineering your office to meet certain ergonomic standards.

In describing specialties, the site lists time management twice, which doesn’t seem very time-efficient, and includes special-needs categories such as “Attention Deficit Disorder” (perhaps listed twice intentionally) and “Chronically Disorganized.” A request for companies ready to help a chronically disorganized writer on the Upper East Side yields 214 candidates.

That’s a lot of competition, but Ms. Rothschild, who is practically a charter member, is doing just fine. She is, in fact, adding people to meet demand. Who are her customers? Typically, people who are moving, two-income families with simply too much going on, pregnant women in the throes of “nesting,” and individuals trying to get more out of their studio apartments.

In other words, all sorts of New Yorkers need help. Being more organized is probably just the beginning.