Most days my list of home maintenance and household tasks remains static. Already being rather lengthy, it’s discouraging to even think of adding to it. I just wish I were capable of crossing off more assignments than I find myself able to do these days. Today I decided to take action. Motivational wisdom maintains that you’re more apt to achieve your goals if you have a manageable daily list. I like making lists. I have lists on scraps of paper that are tucked everywhere in this house: books to read, potential names of places to volunteer, inspirational quotes, people I want to write to or send things to, day trip ideas, and so on. This morning I made a serious list, and it looked like this at 9:30am:
1) Wash table on patio
2) Cover outdoor furniture
3) Move deck furniture down to patio under deck
4) Plant garlic
5) Cut down ornamental grasses in front garden
6) Turn off outside water
7) Put away air conditioners
Springing into action, I first switched into appropriate roll-up-your-sleeve wear, and headed to the back door. Pleased to see that the sun was shining, I then noted that the two French doors really needed a good cleaning. I thus veered off toward the pantry to gather window spray, paper towels and the squeegee. Hmm, I was sure I had left the squeegee in there. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the broom closet, either, although the smell of stink bugs in there reminded me of the unwise move earlier in the week of vacuuming up all those primitive-looking, creepy bugs that somehow ultimately find their way into my baskets of clean clothes and into my bureau.* The clutter within, in combination with the stink bug odor, caused me an involuntary shudder, so I closed the door. (Note: add “DIY closet project” to list.)
In short order, I found myself in my car with the objective of buying a replacement for an item that unquestionably was in my house but eluded discovery because someone (else) must have moved it. I headed south on Route 1 to pick up another squeegee at the hardware store, where the broad array of choices was staggering, challenging me to be more contemplative in my choice; I say challenging, but a squeegee is a squeegee, after all. I then dashed over to nearby Tendercrop Farm to buy eggs and milk. I’m nothing if not efficient in time management. In Tendercrop’s market I ran into Tiffany, and we caught up. As I then hastened toward the counter my eye caught an intriguing machine, topped by a large container of peanuts. Turns out you can make your own peanut butter at Tendercrop – I love peanut butter! But I’m efficient in time management, y’see, so I stored that new piece of information and walked away. I rushed, only to cool my heels in the line for the register, which is where I ran into Meghan from Triton, and we caught up.
It occurs to me that standing in line is really a blessing. I know it doesn’t seem that way for most of us; just the thought of waiting in line causes most of us to become anxious, all that time wasted. We just don’t view “The Line” for all it offers us. On occasion we find ourselves to be either directly in front of or behind someone whom we haven’t seen in ages. (Funny how the moment tends to force our facial muscles into some distorted version of a smile, and causes us to engage in awkward banter, maybe because we realize that we’ve been negligent in tending friendships, but more likely because in those moments we only ever are dressed in the worst of our closet’s dregs, and with our hair looking very much like the before picture). Confession: I regularly see people I know in other lines, and do my best to be invisible; I’m a horrible human being. Standing in line is like, but not too like, riding the subway; you have been presented with the opportunity to strike up a conversation with (most likely) a perfect stranger, and know that it will quickly end, and you will (most likely) never see this person again. You can be whoever you want, and say whatever you want. (In that way, it’s not too like meeting someone you know in a grocery or department store, but these days it’s even easier to lower the risk by ordering online and doing a curb-side pickup).
I always feel - at the grocery store or market, that is, - that you should not waste the moment by talking about how frustrating it is to wait in line, and, excuse me, but why is that person just now beginning to dig into the deepest recesses of her satchel for her checkbook? It is in moments like this where it’s okay to talk about the enduring appeal of PEZ candy dispensers, (they didn’t always come packaged in such a fun, child-centered way, you know; also, they were originally mint-flavored and came in an Altoids-type tin), and what a shame – and how bewildering – that NECCO, the other maker of candy of questionable value, abruptly sold the business; who really even likes those clove-flavored ones? Oh, you do – Imagine that! (You have to hand it to NECCO; they stuck to their formula, and never changed in over 150 years.)
It occurs to me that standing in line is really a blessing. I know it doesn’t seem that way for most of us; just the thought of waiting in line causes most of us to become anxious, all that time wasted. We just don’t view “The Line” for all it offers us. On occasion we find ourselves to be either directly in front of or behind someone whom we haven’t seen in ages. (Funny how the moment tends to force our facial muscles into some distorted version of a smile, and causes us to engage in awkward banter, maybe because we realize that we’ve been negligent in tending friendships, but more likely because in those moments we only ever are dressed in the worst of our closet’s dregs, and with our hair looking very much like the before picture). Confession: I regularly see people I know in other lines, and do my best to be invisible; I’m a horrible human being. Standing in line is like, but not too like, riding the subway; you have been presented with the opportunity to strike up a conversation with (most likely) a perfect stranger, and know that it will quickly end, and you will (most likely) never see this person again. You can be whoever you want, and say whatever you want. (In that way, it’s not too like meeting someone you know in a grocery or department store, but these days it’s even easier to lower the risk by ordering online and doing a curb-side pickup).
I always feel - at the grocery store or market, that is, - that you should not waste the moment by talking about how frustrating it is to wait in line, and, excuse me, but why is that person just now beginning to dig into the deepest recesses of her satchel for her checkbook? It is in moments like this where it’s okay to talk about the enduring appeal of PEZ candy dispensers, (they didn’t always come packaged in such a fun, child-centered way, you know; also, they were originally mint-flavored and came in an Altoids-type tin), and what a shame – and how bewildering – that NECCO, the other maker of candy of questionable value, abruptly sold the business; who really even likes those clove-flavored ones? Oh, you do – Imagine that! (You have to hand it to NECCO; they stuck to their formula, and never changed in over 150 years.)
An hour and a half after having critically assessed the state of the glass in my French doors, I finally held all the necessary supplies to clean them. I got down to work, and, equipped with the proper tools, quick work it was. The panes looked wonderful, or I should say that the tree line beyond looked wonderful. So that is why I proceeded to the dining room, hoping to excite my brain’s pleasure center once more. I was reminded, in so doing, that on one of the windows the pulley and sash cord had long parted ways. (Note: add “Repair window sash” to list.)
I did, finally, get to one of the items on my list – the ornamental grasses in the front garden. This time the right tool presented itself without taunting me into a game of hide-and-seek. It was probably the most ambitious task on the list, but I was determined to get it off the list, if only for the reason that I’d like to ease the job of backing my car out of the driveway without having to inch by the overgrown grasses. Now I barely have to tap my brakes, and I’m on my way up the street. See, there’s my natural sense of efficiency on evidence again.
So, at the end of the day my list now reads (for use another day):
1) Wash table on patio
2) Find covers for outdoor furniture
3) Cover outdoor furniture
4) Move deck furniture down to patio under deck
5) Weed raised bed
6) Plant garlic
7) Cut down ornamental grasses – front garden
8) Turn off outside water. Thank you, Megan
9) Put away air conditioners
10) DIY closet project
11) Repair window sash
12) Wash windows on French doors
13) Wash dining room windows**
*Stink bugs, an invasive species from East Asia, are of particular concern to growers of corn and soybean. It worries me that scientists have considered introducing another species from China as a natural predator; the wasp in question has no known predators. Really? Really?!!
**Admit it; you, too, add things to your list after the fact, just so that you can cross them off.
I think I need more motivational wisdom. It should pull in some ideas about avoiding distractions, how to become organized and stay that way, perhaps some words on prioritizing, and, dear God, some strategies on time management.
