wshaffer

In preparing for our upcoming move (currently due to happen end-of-May/beginning-of-July-ish), I've been sorting through old files, getting things in order and getting rid of things I no longer need to keep.

Some of the things I've stumbled across:

• Smog test records from a car that was totalled in 2003.


• A complete set of paperwork related to the accident that totalled my car in 2003, including the credit-card receipt for my payment to the towing company and a hand-drawn sketch of the intersection at which the accident occurred that I submitted as part of my insurance claim.


• The rental contract for an apartment that I haven't lived in since 1997. Plus every piece of correspondence I ever had with the landlord of that apartment.


• A manual for Mac OS 10.1.

No wonder the filing cabinet was full! I've disposed of much of that. (I kept the records from the car accident. Can't really imagine ever needing them, but they don't take up much space.)

I've been moving my most frequently referenced/updated records into three-ring binders, which I find easier to keep organized.

I've only gotten partway through the top drawer of the filing cabinet so far. I know that lurking in the bottom drawer is a large collection of photocopies biochemistry and enzymology papers from my grad school days. Will I have the strength to dispose of those?

The problem with keeping both the keys to your filing cabinet on the same keyring: when you lose the keys, you lose both keys to the filing cabinet.

The advantage to keeping both keys to your filing cabinet on the same keyring: when you find the keys, you find both keys to the filing cabinet.

The thing that really makes me happy: that I remembered where I'd put the keys to the filing cabinet just before I googled, "How to break the lock on a filing cabinet."

The keys to the filing cabinet now reside in two separate places. One of which is the keyring containing my house keys, so if I lose the keys to the filing cabinet, I automatically have worse problems to deal with.

I'm having lots of fun organizing my home office as I unpack. I'm getting to decide where to put things based on where it makes sense for them to go, rather than where they seem to fit at the time, and I have fantasies that this is going to suddenly transform me into a neat and organized person. I expect reality will kick in by the end of February. Still, I'm getting to make some real usability improvements in my home office, and this pleases me.

Something I've learned about myself over years of observation: my brain needs a certain amount of downtime. Time not spent on focused tasks. Time to recharge.

What I haven't yet learned is how to distinguish this absolutely vital and necessary downtime from just plain screwing around.

(Yes, I'm trying to optimize the amount of unstructured activity in my life. You are permitted, nay, encouraged, to point and laugh at the contradiction here.)

For some reason, I am up at a stupidly early hour for a Sunday. Actually, I think I know the reason - I had a dream that I was looking after a gigantic busload of kids, and little things kept going wrong, and then I remembered that I was late for a meeting, and the bus was going in the wrong direction, and I didn't have the cell phone number of anyone who was going to be there, and so I got off the bus and started walking-

And then I woke up.

I'm not sure if my subconscious was trying to tell me something, but it sure seems like the busload of kids is an apt metaphor for the vast array of tiny tasks and chores that are clamoring for my attention. And what better use for a Sunday morning on which one is unexpectedly up early than to take care of such tasks and chores?

Well, except that I don't wanna. What I really want to do is take advantage of the nice, cool, slightly overcast morning we're having to take my iPod and go for a long walk, with a stop at Starbucks for a cappuccino in the middle.

So, my organized self and my hedonistic self are compromising. I've made myself a nice big cup of tea, and this is the deal: for as long as it takes me to drink this cup of tea, I must sit at my desk and do useful tasks. Once I finish the cup of tea, I can go for a walk. (Chugging the entire cup of tea in one go not allowed.)

( So far I have... )

The cup of tea is now nearly empty, but I think I've earned my walk. (Which will now include a stop by the bank to deposit the unearthed check.)

Perhaps when I come back, I'll tackle my filing system, which is the persistent Achilles heel of my desk organization.