Organization Quest

Organization vs. Pet-Proofing (You Can Guess What Won)

Those of you who recall the great craft closet organization last fall might remember the craft drawers I meticulously labeled so that I would never, ever forget where I put my eyelet setter or vellum adhesive.  Oh, it was bliss.  I may have back-slid on some of my projects--my laundry is back to where you could hide a sheepdog in the enormous heap of clean clothes that has piled up on the chair next to the bed and I haven't cleaned the glass shelves in the kitchen since, well, a year ago today, as it turns out, but by golly, my craft closet has been neat as a pin, thanks to those labels that remind me where precisely everything goes.  It would be blasphemous to say I loved those labels more than God Himself, so I'm not going to say that.  Nor do I want to risk jinxing my marriage or my health by comparing my love specifically of the accessory drawer labels with my love of Alpay or my emotional attachment to certain non-essential body parts.  Suffice to say I just really liked those labels a lot.

But then Alpay found not one but two labels in the pool of kitty barf he stepped into on his way out of the bathroom Sunday morning.  Later in the afternoon, I caught Lickity Split on his tippy-toes, clawing at the craft closet drawer with alacrity until a label  popped off and dropped to the floor, which Snapdragon then picked up chewed with great relish.  An intervention followed, after which I removed every single label from every drawer. 

I think it's useful to share cautionary tales, because how else are you supposed to know that certain harmless-looking things could be dangerous? When we brought the kittens home last year, I knew to be careful about the blind cords after a co-worker lost a kitten in such a way.  In the same vein, toilet lids should always be closed--not only do they pose a risk for pets (who may not be able to get a grip on slippery sides) but sadly it's a risk for toddlers as well.  Likewise, dental floss and even those traditional kitty favorites-- yarn and twine--are terribly dangerous if ingested, as they can get caught in internal organs.  What else?  The ASPCA has a terrific list of  plants poisonous to cats, dogs, and horses.  And I've always been careful to keep chest drawers closed--or to locate critters before closing drawers--after another friend lost her kitty who panicked and died after being accidentally trapped in the small space between the back of a chest and the back of its drawers.

I love the term "furkids" because that's exactly what pets are: they're like children, with all their beauty, grace, and silly antics.  But like children, they tend to get into things.  It our job as "furparents" to keep them safe, even if that means sacrificing a little time--or a little organization.

Above: Back when they could still both fit on the same shelf of their beloved cat tree.

Why Our Printer Keeps Breaking: 5 Seconds in the Life of Lickity Split

What?  I'm not doing anything.

 

Still not doing anything wrong!  People sure are suspicious.

 

Just getting a closer look.  Can't scold a kitty for looking.

 

Just lost my balance!  Geez!

 

Snapdragon!  You be the lookout!  Is the coast clear? 

 

Got it!

Pet Records Part 1: For Pet Sitters

A few months ago, I broke down and got Levenger's special Circa for organizing home information.  While I'm glad I got it because it gave me a lot of good ideas, I've found that the actual fields it contains doesn't correspond all that much with those I need.  In the "Pet Information" section, for instance, I really don't need "Kennel Information," nor do I need a special calendar just to record vet visits.  Still, looking at Levenger's design got me off and running in terms of making my own pet info pages.  I especially liked of including a pet's photo--I think that's ingenious, especially for pet sitters who are caring for multiple pets for the first time in one house hold.  And while the Levenger page does have a place to note feeding instructions, type of food, and feeding schedule, I also think it's useful for sitters to know some of the little idiosyncratic things, like   nicknames, favorite toys, favorite treats, likes, dislikes, and yes, most common naughty behavior.  In our case, I think it's a good idea to put a person on notice that Lickity is likely to climb up their pant legs, or that Snapdragon will carry his rat-on-a-string around and plop it down on one's body, which is especially fun if his victim sleeping with their mouth is open.  I'm sure he thinks that's extra-fun because it always gets a reaction.

Here is a sample of my pages; I've also pdfed blank copies for you to download and use in your own 8 1/2" x 11" binder.

 

Blank pet page to download (PDF format)

Download Pdf of pet page for organizer

Filing Pet Papers

If you're thinking:  oh, come on, how much paperwork could a pet possibly generate, then all I can say is: obviously you've never had a pet.

Medical records. The receipt for rabies tags.  Prescription history.  Health care instructions.  Information about medical conditions.  The names and numbers of vets, kennels, sitters, day care services, walkers, groomers, emergency veterinary services, and poison control.  Microchip information.  Bloodwork and test records.  Adoption papers and agreements.  Pet insurance. Vaccination schedule. And so on:

 

Once upon a time, I used to agonize over what to do with such stuff.  Does the adoption contract go under my "Contracts" file?  What should I do with the rabies tag?  Since The Boys are indoor-only kitties, I don't bother with collars.  Should I store the tags . . . in the junk drawer?  In a box?  My jewelry box?  And what about all those pamphlets?  I guess I could copy down the information and put it all in my organizer/address book, but I hate to junk things up with items I rarely if ever use.

If there is a rule to filing, I think it should be: file like with like in a place where you would look for it.  So it really wouldn't make sense to file the pet insurance brochure under "Insurance"--because that's not where I would look for it.  What I needed was a single file for all pet-related stuff.  And so I made a file (simply labeled "The Boys") and tuck anything related to them inside for an easy, quick, organization solution.

 

Storing Not-in-Use Pet Toys and Supplies

Like any good auntie, my sister has sent first Mau-Mau and now The Boys toys Toys TOYS every year. There is the rat-on-the-stick; there is the laser-pointer; there is any number of stuffed mice and catnip pouches and fuzz balls and toys that bounce on an elasticized string.

After Mau-Mau Kitty passed last year, I thought maybe I should gather up the toys and retire them after many honorable years of service. Before I could make up my mind to do so, we adopted the kittens who loved those toys and set about chasing, hunting, and tearing them up with great joy and abandon.

But saving the old toys hasn't prevented buying new ones. Snapdragon likes Da Bird; Lickity likes sparkle balls.  They both like ostrich feathers.  And so in this way, the living room has come to resemble the type of toy-filled obstacle course usually associated with people who have quintuplet toddlers.

What's a fur-mom to do? 

A while back, I hit upon the idea of alternating cat toys, the way designers in fancy magazines advise you to alternate accessories to keep things fresh.  The problem, for us, is where to store the toys, as we have so very little storage space and so very many stuffed mice. 

When I took Lickity to the vet a few months ago, I put a blanket and one of his favorite toys in the carrier and realized:  THAT'S IT!!!  Since we so rarely use the carrier, it's a great place to store cat-related items. The carrier is easy to find, and by designating it as the official cat-stuff-storage box, it's easy to find the supplies, too.  No more digging under the bed!  No more rummaging through the closet! 

There are so few clear victories in life, but surely figuring out the perfect place to store crinkle balls and kitty nail clippers counts as one of them.

 
Above: the cat carrier as perfect cat-stuff  storage. Below: inside the box.

Pet Week on the Quest!

I love Alpay, but he's no Quester.  When I told him that it was going to be Pet Week on the Quest, he said:  Pets? How do you organize pets? Which is a little like saying: Kids?  How do you organize kids? 

He just doesn't get it.

So this week on the Quest we'll clue him in. Some of the topics are those I promised to get to in the past, like tips for traveling with pets or leaving them behind when you go on vacation.  Other topics include keeping track of vet and vaccination records and creating a handy pet page to store on your computer or in an organizer.  I've taken pix of my  favorite toy- and supply storage trick, and we'll take a look at some great on-line resources as well as cleaning products specifically designed for pet-owners. 

 
Snapdragon and Lickity Split Now that's love:  when they aren't a giant ball of kinetic kitty wrestling, they snuggle and groom each other until they fall asleep. 

In Memoriam: Mau-Mau Kitty

Tonight marks one year since our beloved Mau-Mau Kitty passed.

At the time, I didn't know how I'd get through the following 24 hours, not to mention week or month, much less a whole year.  And yet here we are. 

I'm still sad and I still miss him.  Perhaps more than anything, however, is how profoundly grateful I am for the experience--yes, all of it, every single moment--that we shared, from the time we first touched noses between the bars of his cage in the Portland Humane Society to that last evening when he lay between Alpay and I, resting against us as the three of us watched the light fade from the summer sky. 

Afterwards I wrote an obituary which I sent family and friends, and was overcome with the outpouring of love and support we received.  My boss, one of the first to respond, wrote me from her vacation to express her condolences.  My brother, too, emailed me immediately.  My wonderful sister sent flowers.  I talked a long time with my Dad, who knew exactly the right things to say.   When I got back to work, I found a card from my co-workers who shared words of love and encouragement.  The sister-in-law I love sent a card that still makes me smile. People from all over the world emailed to offer their sympathy and share their own memories of Mau-Mau. And in that way, I realized yet again what a gift love is.  If Mau-Mau's life bought a richness and joy to our lives, the depth of which I did not anticipate that day in the Human Society, his death made me keenly aware of--and grateful for--the kind, wonderful, caring  people in our lives. 

Cat in the Bag

There's only one thing Lickity Split likes more than jumping in a shopping bag, and that's to be carried around in it, a peculiarity that never ceases to amaze Snapdragon.  Lickity sufficiently destroyed this bag so as to make it inoperable as his own magical flying kitty car, but meowed pitiably for a ride nonetheless, annoying the Dragon no end. Check out the Dragon's head tilt! Followed by Lickity's Don't-Mess-With-Me death stare!

 

This One Is For Lorenzo

Tonight a dear friend contacted me, to let me know that her beloved dog is in hospice care and not expected to live much longer.

Having gone through the heartbreaking process of caring for our Mau-Mau, which included twice-daily subcutaneous fluids in the last year of his 19-year old life, I feel deeply for my friend and for her husband, also a friend. 

Sometimes, I'm amazed at how much emotion the heart can hold; how much love, how much tenderness and joy, and also how much sadness.  Nothing is harder than to see a loved one ailing--whether the beloved is human or fish or fowl, reptile or mammal.  Going through the grief process last year, I indeed understood anew the meaning of the term "broken hearted."   "Amazing how much a heart can hurt and not stop beating," is what I wrote Lori tonight.

At some point, I'll address here in the Quest the topic of researching options and making decisions in preparation for the inevitable--and yes, heartbreaking--transition our  "fur babies" make from being a daily source of love and joy in this world, to a cherished memory, and, I fervently hope, a companion in the next. But tonight I'm taking a break from making plans and lists, toting up to-do's and finishing chores.  Instead I'll say a prayer for my friends and their beloved Lorenzo.  I think, too, I'll nuzzle my two boys who never knew Mau-Mau, but whose soft fur and tender kitten breath and silly antics enabled me to move through my grief so I might dare to love so openly, so shamelessly, and so hopefully, once again.

Lickity Split is Glad File Week is Over

 
My ferocious kitty (actually, I just caught him mid-yawn!)

The Cat Hair Problem

Our Mau-Mau

A few years ago, the division of the company I work for moved from one suburb to another, and so my manager at the time called a meeting to announce the office assignments.  The good news, she said, is that we'd get a real office with a door and everything.  This was just wildly exciting, as we'd all previously worked in cubes.  The (semi) bad news was that the offices were semi-private, meaning there'd be two per office.  Before the manager had finished pairing us off, the man assigned to share the office space with me was shaking his head while mouthing "no, no, no."

"Is there a problem?" the manager asked my office mate, who has indicated he'd like to be  called Gustavo, or, alternately, Rinaldo, in this blog.  He's promised if I do so, he might take before-and-after pictures of his study makeover and let me post them on the Quest.  So Rinaldo or Gustavo it is.

"I'm allergic to cats," Gustavo said in answer to the manager.

The manager leveled her gaze at him and waited.  "So?" she finally said.

"She. Has. A. Cat," he said, emphasizing each word by raising and lowering his eyebrows. 

The manager's expression didn't change.  The manager was seated to my right, Gustavo to the left; I was in-between the two.  Gustavo, for his part continued staring at my manager in return, coupled with a strange head-tilt in my direction.  At first I thought he might have a creak in his neck, but then I realized there was a deliberate direction to the thrust of his head, which I followed in spite of myself.  And that's when I saw it:  an enormous, knotted tangle of downy white cat fur, wedged in my crotch.

I plucked the tangle from its ignoble position and held it in front of me, unsure what to do with it.  Gustavo stared at it.  My manager stared at it.  Across the table, another colleague stared at it.  For a long moment, it was as if time itself had stopped so we all, my colleaguess, manager, and I, might examine this artifact from Mau-Mau Kitty, our long-haired, Maine Coon cat.  "We'll get her a lint brush," my manager said then.

Look at that furry tummy!

After Mau-Mau Kitty passed on our bed last June, I washed the sheets.  As always, little balls of fur covered the freshly-cleaned sheets, requiring an extensive plucking process to (more or less) remove all the fur-balls.  The next time I washed the sheets, I noticed that there wasn't nearly as much fur.  The third time I washed the sheets, there was virtually none.  By this time, we'd adopted the kittens, but being relatively short-haired, combined they didn't shed a fraction of what Mau-Mau Kitty had.  The day I realized this, I cried and cried, because I realized anew that Mau-Mau was gone.  Even the physical evidence of his existence--the ubiquitous cat dander floating in the air--was slowly disappearing.  It made me very sad. 

Every once in a while, when I vacuum under the bed or move a piece of furniture, I come across a bit of downy white fur. "Kitty tumbleweeds" is what Alpay calls them.   Alpay has kept a tangle or two, which he keeps on his desk as a kind of talisman. 

A few weeks ago, I came home from work and found a little knot not under but on the bed.  And stranger still:  it wasn't white, but a darkish brown. And I realized that it came from Snapdragon.  "Look!" I said showing Alpay.  "A kitty tumbleweed!" Alpay said.  We were excited and very proud.  Since then, I've noticed more tumbleweeds: on the chair in my study, on the floor by the bed.  When I washed the sheets, I had to once again pluck fur balls off it, as I've done for the past 19 years.  Gustavo may not be happy about it, but really, I'm delighted.  What's a home without a little cat fur?

Our two boys: Lickity Split and Snapdragon

 

Find the Kitty

 
Guess the closet is due for tidying . . .

Safe Storage for Flash Drives and Camera Cards

While Lickity Split maintains a stable of "girlfriends" including  a sheepskin throw, my most expensive water color brush, and a fuzzy beige pillow whose corner he nibbles while compulsively kneeding with all four paws, Snapdragon prefers light-weight, aerodynamic projectiles he tosses in the air and bats around with abandon. Which is exactly how Alpay's flash drive got smashed to smithereens last fall.

 
The culprit, and for once it's not Lickity Split. 

It would be a funny story if Alpay still didn't feel the ramifications of the lost data, which included project work, valuable correspondence records, and a spreadsheet of our checking account transactions.  It took hours upon hours to untangle the account information, but what really hurt was the significant amount of creative work forever lost.  While there are data retrieval services available--OnTrack is one with a solid reputation--the cost can be prohibitive.  In the case of our flash drive, for instance, the quote ranged between $2,300 and $2,800 to retrieve the data on it--needless to say, well more than the $60 or so we paid for the actual flash drive.

Alpay made the painful decision to let the drive go and rebuild anew. The take-home message:  back up your data, of course. But we also learned the importance of safe storage for electronic data devices.

We no longer leave our flash drives--or our camera cards, for that matter--laying about, where they are vulnerable not only to the whims of kittens but to beverage spills, misplacement, and our own clumsiness.  Keeping the principle of scale in mind, a former pen box provides just-the-right-size storage for our small data devices. 

 

Gratuitous Picture of Snapdragon

Why does Lickity Split gets all the attention on the Quest? Several Snapdragon fans have written me wanting to know, and I don't blame them: the coverage does appear to be slanted in the Splitster's favor.  This isn't to say the Dragon is not equally adorable or equally naughty.  It's just that Snapdragon's particular brand of naughtiness, which includes relentless pleas for butter (yes!  butter!), scratching the closet door where treats are stored, and dragging his rat-on-a-string toy everywhere, plopping it down at our feet, and mewing plaintively until we pick it up and swing it around for him--are not particularly photogenic or germane to organizing.  So here's a recent picture of the Dragon in his beloved cat tree.  Unlike certain other kitties, Snapdragon is not much prone to hiding and is happy to nap in conventional places.

Gosh Darnit! Where IS that kitten?!?

Follow-Through Project #4: Reclaiming The Shelving Units In My Study

So far this week, the reclamation projects have taken anywhere from 5 minutes to an hour and a half to complete.  The idea was to start small and gain confidence and momentum on easy victories while building up to more complex and time-consuming projects. And today's project was nothing if not time-consuming.

Two chrome shelving units, six shelves each.  How long could it take tidy that?  Given that I'd stashed a 5" stack of paperwork and design projects on one of the shelves, I gave myself two hours:  one hour for filing and an hour to take care of everything else.  In other words, I was dreaming.

Even though the shelves are on wheels and are thus easy to move, I hadn't swept under or behind the units since they'd found their homes next to my desk. Doing so today gave me a new-found appreciation for the precision and flexibility of the word yuck to cover everything I found there:  dust, cat fur, graphite, pencil shavings, shredded paper bits, post-its, eraser crumbs and crud of indistinct origin. 

The shelves themselves held an astonishing amount of books,  papers, and supplies of all kinds, including office, art, school, computer, and pet supplies.  I cleaned, I organized, I tossed, and I filed, until I thought surely I must be done, or if not done, then at least close.  And then another hour would go by and I'd realize: nope, not even close.

Seven hours after I started, I was done.  But more than any project to date, this one was worth the effort. While there are still a few projects I need to do to finish things up, with the chrome shelves organized I feel like I've finally reclaimed my study.

Yeah, this should only take an hour to clear out, no problem. 

  

Okay, maybe two hours.

 

Oops!  Forgot about all the stuff crammed behind everything.  Rats!

 

Okay, so it was 7 hours, not 2.  But it looks so much better!

Everything tidy and in its place. Wait! What's behind the shelf?

  

Reclaiming the Chrome Shelves

Follow-Through Project #1: Reclaiming The Living Room

Last summer, the arrival of the kittens coincided with getting a new desk for Alpay's study.  The kittens lovedthe enormous corrugated carton from the desk.  They immediately latched onto it--both figuratively and literally--and soon it became a combination hidey hole/scratching post, in which they would sink their claws with eye-rolling relish.  The more time passed, the more attached they became and the more difficult it was to envision our life without the carton's mammoth bulk and ever-present cardboard shreds.  We figured If the kittens were working on the carton, they were't working on the furniture.  That was the theory, anyway.

And so a huge, half-shredded carton sat in the living room for, let's see, eight months, because we couldn't bear to disappoint the kittens. 

The carton got the boot this weekend for perhaps the most efficient ratio of time spent/result achieved. 

 
Above: before. Okay, it takes up most of the wall.  But it's a small wall.  Below: after.

 

Getting Rid of The Kittens' Cardboard Box

Who Are You Rooting For, Lickity Split?

 

Having gone to grad school at University of Pittsburgh, I thought I would make an honest attempt to watch this year's Superbowl, nevermind that I'm on a diet and so can't have the sacred Superbowl combo of nachos-pizza-and-chips, which is the whole point of watching it in the first place. 

Because the TV is pretty much reserved for the "Cat Sitter" DVD we bought for the kittens, whenever we turn on the TV the kittens come running, probably hoping for the terrified hamster scene, which is their favorite part.  Having turned on the TV tonight to the Superbowl instead, Snapdragon was bitterly disappointed, but Lickity couldn't get enough of it, turning away only during the commentary and the commercials.  Apparently something exciting happened in the fourth quarter.  I didn't catch it, but I'm sure Lickity didn't miss a thing.

 

I don't know who the old guy is, but Lickity didn't like him and sulked during commentary.

Game back on!  That's more like it!

Lickity Split Ponders One of Life's Mysteries

The Missing Sock Basket

Everyone knows socks go AWOL; where, exactly, they go between washer and dryer is one of the Great Mysteries of Life, alongside what happens when we die and why what other people order at restaurants always looks better than what's on your own plate, nevermind that you don't like and won't eat what they ordered, it's still looks more appealing, which is the mystery part.  Anyway.  Socks go missing; this is a fact.  Where or why is not ours to question.  The problem is, what do you do with the good, reliable, conscientious sock who reports to duty while you wait for the slacker sock to show up?

Some time ago, I developed the habit of tossing my unmatched socks into a basket, the idea being that eventually the erstwhile partner will be tossed into the same basket and the two will be paired up when I conduct my Sock Audit, in theory once a month.  By and large, the system works well enough, although I've never been able to match all the socks up at any given time, and have come to suspect that some of the sock-basket socks have been, alas, permanently abandoned.  Still, it takes a lot for me to toss out the surviving sock; it almost seems a little cruel, not to mention unjust.  Who really deserves my wrath is the sock that went missing in the first place.  But I digress.

Earlier this week I sat down with Snapdragon and together we matched up socks for the first time since September. I figured it was time since we kept running out of socks, but there were never many socks in the hampers.  Indeed, the missing sock basket had become a de facto hamper, housing an enormous pile of clean socks.  It took an hour to sort through them all, but by the time I was done, I'd successfully matched up thirty-eight pairs of socks, and got to cross yet another thing off my put-off list.

 

 

Auditing the Missing Sock Basket