Tuesday, August 14, 2001

 

2:42 a.m. Another view of the kitchen counter ... because today was another attempt to do exactly what I was trying to do yesterday ... and that's what you've got to do when you're working through a clog or a block ... keep at it ... look at it from another side ... try it another way ... take the long view.

Yeah. That's the story ... which I'm going to pick up in the morning ...

Friday, August 17, 2001

10:54 a.m. Well, the week has grabbed me up and had its way with me, and here we are, already at Friday. Along the way, I do believe I've discovered the Secret of Life, so the week hasn't been a total loss.

Just for efficiency, I'll skip over the small moments in the week (the hour wasted watching Big Brother, the sleep lost because my latest bedside book has turned into a page-turner, the laundry) and move right along to the big Secret. Don't turn away when I tell you that it includes the concept of organization, because it does.

But that's not the whole picture. Organization is terribly, terribly important -- but what makes it such a sore subject for most people is its illusive nature. Most of us would *like* to get organized ... one-of-these-days ... but that day never seems to come, or it comes and is subsumed in a rush of other details. (See above.)

I can tell you that it seems to get easier, like many other things intellectual, with age. We may have to cash in all our physical-perfection coupons over the years as weight and gravity and neglect take their tolls, but I can assure you that the brain really does improve with age.

Barring dread disease and assuming some primitive meditation or prayer, you can look forward to more calmness, less chaos, more clarity, and less chuff as you age. Things sort themselves out -- they really do. The waves upon waves of hormones ebb over time. They really do. It's true -- you may not believe me now, but give yourself five years, check back in with me, and you'll see that I'm right.

Anyway -- it's all about organization, sure. You can't move your life along unless you know where your stuff is. Stuff! It's got to be accounted for! How many sweaters do you have? Are they clean and folded and moth-free? How about your photo collection -- can you still find glossy technicolor evidence of distant relatives spending a fading summer afternoon with you?

Dishes: are they stacked? Receipts: are they ironed? (OK -- that's just me, but really, they get all crumpled when they're stuffed in back pockets and wallet creases and how can you stack them in a box if they're wrinkled and puckered? But don't try to iron any receipts that come from a thermal cash-register-printer. They blacken.)

Hmmm. Tangent rot.

Back to the central moment ... organization. Here's the new idea: to have a happy, productive life, your stuff must be organized in direct proportion to how much you care. If you care a lot, things must be neat as a pin. (Including pins, of course, and they shouldn't be left all haphazard every which way in the felt tomato.) If you could care less, enjoy the mess. There's no harm done.

You get into trouble when you're not as organized as you'd like to be. Or, you make yourself crazy if you're trying to live up to the standards you've been hoodwinked into believing via Martha or Mom. Or you try to organize someone else who might share your space ... this will never work, of course.

Well, there you are. When I write in the morning I'm ever so much more organized and I'm happy to share my insights with you. This piece will be filed, one-of-these-days, under "s" -- or maybe "i" or ... possibly "o".

Or all three? Cross-referenced? See also?

Help.