Lists, to a fault
I’m an inveterate list maker. I approach most days with a list in hand or the need to make a list in mind. Incidentally, I also am crippled by a cluttered work space, so before productive work can proceed, I have to clear away randomness. This need to categorize and list is a constant companion. I am organized in theory at all times. I am organized in practice most of the time, or I have plan to implement.
My clothes are hung in my closets in a particular way. My dance shoes are lined up in an order clear only to me. My drinking glasses have a specific place in the cupboard. I like my towels folded the same way my mother does, which is not the same way Martha Stewart folds towels. I like my personal business files alphabetized. There are times when order is beautiful.
But there is some relief to the madness. I prefer not to make my beds. I don’t mind if my street shoes are in disarray in the closet. My underwear drawer is an ocean of cotton. I like pictures hung asymmetrically and in odd groupings. The books on my bookshelves are merely imperfectly ordered by type. And I love floor cushions, even if they’re scattered haphazardly on my beautiful wood floors. Wild gardens appeal to me. Like Robert Herrick, I often find “delight in disorder.”
Because I am super organized, my lists also take on the personality of a three or four level outline. I leave the Roman numerals off my grocery list, but other lists are intricately detailed and categorized. I needed a break from the cerebral process of list-making, so this summer I devised a twist to the list. It is a patentable method for getting through a list without the mental pressure we list makers often give ourselves. In fact, it’s more like a game, and even has great marketing potential for teaching young kids how to be diligent with their chores—making chore time more like a game. For adults, it removes the humdrum of list-checking and ensures sustainable discipline for accomplishing anything from complicated tasks to mundane chores. I’m still working on the details.
For now, I’m using an amalgam of my pen and paper lists (which are now on the backs of pages ripped from an old desk calendar) and a very primitive prototype of my new system. In addition to these slips of paper, I have an ongoing list on my laptop of things I really ought to check into or do. I even have a file entitled “Blogger Fodder” which lists some of the topics I’ve thought about adding to my weblog. (“Lists” was not Blog fodder.)
My clothes are hung in my closets in a particular way. My dance shoes are lined up in an order clear only to me. My drinking glasses have a specific place in the cupboard. I like my towels folded the same way my mother does, which is not the same way Martha Stewart folds towels. I like my personal business files alphabetized. There are times when order is beautiful.
But there is some relief to the madness. I prefer not to make my beds. I don’t mind if my street shoes are in disarray in the closet. My underwear drawer is an ocean of cotton. I like pictures hung asymmetrically and in odd groupings. The books on my bookshelves are merely imperfectly ordered by type. And I love floor cushions, even if they’re scattered haphazardly on my beautiful wood floors. Wild gardens appeal to me. Like Robert Herrick, I often find “delight in disorder.”
Because I am super organized, my lists also take on the personality of a three or four level outline. I leave the Roman numerals off my grocery list, but other lists are intricately detailed and categorized. I needed a break from the cerebral process of list-making, so this summer I devised a twist to the list. It is a patentable method for getting through a list without the mental pressure we list makers often give ourselves. In fact, it’s more like a game, and even has great marketing potential for teaching young kids how to be diligent with their chores—making chore time more like a game. For adults, it removes the humdrum of list-checking and ensures sustainable discipline for accomplishing anything from complicated tasks to mundane chores. I’m still working on the details.
For now, I’m using an amalgam of my pen and paper lists (which are now on the backs of pages ripped from an old desk calendar) and a very primitive prototype of my new system. In addition to these slips of paper, I have an ongoing list on my laptop of things I really ought to check into or do. I even have a file entitled “Blogger Fodder” which lists some of the topics I’ve thought about adding to my weblog. (“Lists” was not Blog fodder.)
posted by MBT at 15:26
3 Comments:
I've been plagued by a need for orderliness in most things for my entire life. For many years (far more than I care to admit,) I would always eat my food in a certain order, generally discernible to no one, including myself.
One must always start with the bread first, then move onto starchy pasta or rice or other grain. Next comes any type of starchy vegetable -- from most processed (like mashed potatoes) to least processed (like boiled potatoes). Then we move on to our non-starchy vegetables, by colour--naturally, green is at the top of the hierarchy, with orange forming the base. At last we can move on to our protein--always saved for the final indulgence.
I kept this madness going for two decades, unaware as to what I was doing. I finally trained myself out of this routine, but I have kept it up in other ways. My closets are cross-organised by colour, pattern and texture. My spices are arranged by colour and usage. And my towels most be folded in a very specific way as well. Is it exhausting? Absolutely. Does it provide me immense satisfaction? Of course!
If anyone wants to know HOW organized she is, ask her how many miles to the gallon her car gets! You know I love you, MB!
I lost a gas receipt recently. It has thrown me for a loop. So I made another chart. This time, tracking the kiloWatts I use per month versus the cost. Of course, I have set it up to show yearly comparisons too. Excel(R) rocks!
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