Organization Quest

Resisting Resistance By Planning To Plan

 
This week was supposed to be Spring Cleaning Planning Week, a little trick that worked like a charm.  There's nothing like saying, "the idea isn't to do something" to feel like doing it.  So I resist my resistance to action by forbidding the action, and then use the momentum of the action started to keep going.  Pretty clever, huh?

I found a good place to get started was the supply cabinet under the sink, which would give me the chance to take stock of the supplies I have on hand while making tracks on this year's big Spring Cleaning Kitchen Chore, cleaning and organizing the kitchen cabinets. It was also a good place to start in that it was relatively easy; last fall, we had a leaky faucet that necessitated clearing everything out of the cabinet, thus learning the hard way what unhappy business it is to wait until an emergency to get things organized. 

Having gotten rid of 10 year old flea spray and other such relics in the fall, clearing out the stuff was pretty painless this time around.  I'd already washed all the rags and cleaning cloths the week before, so that didn't need to be done, either.  All told, it took me 48 minutes to clear everything out, wash and dry the liner I'd put in after the leak fiasco, wash the trash can inside out, wipe everything down and put everything back. 

 

 

 

Martha Stewart Provides Attitude Check

Sometimes, I think I make cleaning harder by thinking of it as yucky, time-consuming, and boring, and so it was no small stroke of luck that I happened upon Martha Stewart on the Oprah Winfrey Show last week.  Her job when she was in prison was cleaning carpets and waxing floors.  "It was so dirty!" she exclaimed.  "But you know, that place was sparkling when I left."  It was the first time I actually envied prisoners. 

Forget the elaborate cakes and hand-made crafts; what I really want to know is how, exactly, Martha Stewart came to have such a good attitude about what any sane person would find intolerably menial.  "I had the best time!" she said when describing how she learned to run an industrial rug cleaner. 

This weekend, I tried a little of Martha's attitude on for size.  Instead of draaaaaaging myself up and lamenting every minute spent wiping the counters and mopping the floor, I said to myself:  I'm having the best time! I didn't entirely fool myself, but it did make it a little easier.

 

This Week on the Quest: My Organization Breakthrough

 

Almost two years ago, I announced that “every room in the house was clean and clear,” which was probably true for the few weeks it took before things got junked up again.  Within two months, I had to admit that “half the house has gone to hell in a handbasket” and the disorganization basically snowballed from there.

 

What happened?!  I was doing so well!  I got the clothes closets cleared, the craft closet organized.  I’d organized the kitchen cabinets.  I’d organized my recipes, and had spent hour upon hour slogging through my Supreme Paper Mess.  And yet:  there I was, not even two full months later, putting off both entertaining at home and needed repairs because things were in such disarray. 

 

I spent a lot of time thinking about what, exactly, had gone wrong, and this summer I had the chance to make some changes. We tweaked one daily routine that has made all the difference in the world, and I also figured out a few small things I need to do a couple times a week to keep things running smoothly.  

 

The really big change, though, was in re-evaluating how we wanted to use the very limited space we have. We ended up making a huge, if perhaps unconventional shift, re-purposing the rooms to fit our needs. In the process, we ended changing not just how we used the space, but also the habits of maintenance and storage that had been imbedded in those rooms over the course of a decade.  This week on the Quest, I’ll share with you the changes we made, with an eye to strategizing what changes you can make to fashion your own Organization Breakthrough.

 

 Maintenance under control:  today it took all of an hour to tidy the living room, bedroom, and my studio, which included sweeping and vacuuming, doing some dusting, polishing mirrors, cleaning glass-topped tables, picking up, and making the bed. And I'm not a fast worker, folks.  
  

"Clean Enough": Finding the Sweet Spot

This morning I was delighted to read the following comment from reader Patricia Balinski, which is just too good to keep buried with a post I wrote last February ("Why I Can't Fly with the Flylady"), and so I'll quote it in its entirety below: 

In reviewing the preview of Flylady's book, I thought of the many New Year resolutions begun in earnest and fallen to the wayside within hours, days, maybe even a week of making them. Like yourself, a daily regime of chores, whether done until completion or broken up because of side-tracking to do something else within the room, can not be done without frustration of having to do the same thing so repeatedly, day in and day out. At 23, I willingly accepted the wisdom of two women in my life. Thereby, reducing stress and possibly adding years to my life. They were: "Saying you have to clean or do mandatory cleaning routines is true to you now; that is, until something else in your life takes precedent." And, "Let your house be clean enough to be healthy; yet, dirty enough to be happy." Now at 68 1/2, I reduce clutter by redistributing loved treasures to various family members. Still can see them, but they have to clean it. I spend minimal time several times a week to spit polish "hot areas" and use the extra time to volunteer my services where and when I find the most enjoyment. Finally, when the time comes to sweep angel dust under a cloud, I know my children will remember the happy times they had in growing up and not having to live each day in a "white-glove inspection house".

This is exactly what I needed to read this morning. 

One of the things I've been thinking about lately is how the Quest somehow got away from me, or rather, that at times it has taken me away from what I had intended to be my focus:  making room for the important things in life. It's the "subtitle" I chose over any number I considered when starting the Quest, because I wanted to keep the thought front and center--the reason, above all others, why bother trying to be organized at all.

It's time to reclaim the Quest for its original goal and purpose.  The intended goal was never perfection but communion, a leavening of spirit by making it easier, not harder, to get through the day.  "Clean enough to be healthy, yet dirty enough to be happy," as Patricia's mentor so wisely put it.  Now that's a resolution to live by!

Fighting the All-or-Nothing Approach

I once had a co-worker tell me that, while not suicidal, she couldn't wait to die.  "I just think it will be a really interesting experience," she explained, while I groped for a suitable reply. 

It was one of those conversations that you know, while you're having it, your brain is running through a quantity of cells in order to burn the moment in your long-term memory. When I'm 90, I may not remember what I had for breakfast, but by golly, I'll still be trying to figure out if the aforementioned colleague was a nitwit or really was a genius after all.

More recently, I had a conversation with a different co-worker, this one an unambiguous genius, that's given me plenty of food for thought.  I admitted that I've been down for the count on the Organization front.  "It's Just Too Hard," I said, quite as if going through a box of old papers or folding the laundry on a regular basis was akin to training for an Iron Man event.  At high altitude. In, like, July. 

Somehow, my organization efforts stalled out this fall due to what I call the "but first" syndrome: I need to organize my papers, but first I need to get a new file cabinet, but before I do that I have to decide where it goes, but first I need to clear some space, which would mean going through some papers. . . And just like that, I've painted myself into a neat,  little,impossible corner.

I tried explaining this to Emily, but she wasn't buying it. "Sounds like you have an all-or-nothing thing going on," she said.  In one sentence, she described exactly, precisely what's been going on, and why I've been stuck in organizational slo-mo for the last month or more. 

The All-or-Nothing Approach is offspring to that productivity killer, Perfectionism.  Does it really matter if I find exactly the same type of label for my spice jars that I used the last time I made new labels a couple years ago?  Must I really use the same font--or re-do all the labels as my punishment? Because that's what it feels like at times, punishment. What's the point of that? 

So this week's mantra for me  is: something's better than nothing.  "A little" is just fine; it creates a foundation on which progress builds, one step at a time. 

Photo by Alpay Ulku

How To: Take Notes For Maximum Efficiency

Few things in life are as simple in concept and yet surprisingly difficult in practice as taking good notes.  Taking meeting or lecture notes (opposed to reading notes) is especially tricky, because information isn't necessarily presented in a linear fashion.  Speakers interrupt themselves and get interrupted; they backtrack, mumble, forget their point, slur their words, drone on about inconsequential details and skip key information. At least, that's the way it was when I taught, if my student evaluations are to be believed. 

Anyway.  It's the unanticipated twists and turns of a meeting or lecture that makes such notes challenging to take.  Over time I developed two methods that have worked for me, depending on the situation.  One involves taking notes on a laptop; the other uses a longhand approach.

Why and When to Use a Laptop

As a student, this is the method I much prefer.  Why?  In my experience, college lectures cover so much ground at such a fast clip that I simply can't keep up if I'm taking notes longhand.

I also find that it helps me stay engaged in a subject if I keep moving in some way.  Taking notes using a laptop allows me that movement in a value-added way that mere doodling  doesn't.

Details

• Either use one file for a particular course or start a new file for every class in the course.  Some people find it useful to have just one file, as this is a simpler approach and keeps everything in one spot.  Just scroll to the end of the doc and type in the day's date for each new entry.  I personally prefer to start a new document for each class session.  This way, if the file gets deleted or corrupted, I don't lose everything, which has happened before.
• As with the longhand approach that we'll cover next, don't worry about spelling, grammar, writing in complete sentences, or duplicating information. The goal is to capture key concepts, ideas, vocabulary, movements, figures, due dates, and test and project information.
• Use breaks in the lecture--whether in the form of sideline discussions and anecdotes, silences, or when the prof is writing on the board--to underline, bold, or capitalize important information,  which will make it easy to spot when you review your notes later on.
• As soon as possible after class--preferably the same day, read through your notes.  Some people prefer to "clean up" their notes at this point, completing sentences, adding commentary, and deleting unimportant information.  Personally, I don't bother with any of that.  Instead, I print out the notes as-is and read through them, highlighter in hand.  I highlight anything I deem important.  When subsequently reading my notes, the only things I read are the highlighted parts. 

Above: notes I took during my recent stab at design school.

Taking Notes Longhand

As handy as it is to take notes on a laptop,it isn't always possible or even advisable.  While (I like to think) my constant tap-tap-tapping during lectures in a large hall went (largely) unnoticed, I can't imagine doing so during a team meeting or during a one-on-one with my boss at work. 

A further advantage of taking notes longhand is that it requires little set up and low-tech (read: low-cost) materials. 

Details:

• I favor paper with an  "annotation margin." This is  column on the left side of the page which is used to indicate the subject or call out important information concerning teams, projects, or due dates.
• Develop your own "shorthand" of symbols and abbreviations.  While this is also helpful when taking notes on a computer, it's especially important when taking notes longhand.  Some of my favorite abbreviations include:  w = with, w/o = without, imp = important, mem = memorize, ? = question, dd = due date, and bec = because. 
• As with taking notes on a computer, don't worry about misspellings, grammar, etc. But do go over your notes when finished to both review and to clarify any ambiguities,  which I've found happens more often when I'm handwriting notes. You may combine this step with highlighting any important information.
• It's also helpful--especially on the job but also in school--to create a to-do list based on your notes.  You may also want to note any important dates on your calendar.

Above: annotation-margin paper with subjects noted in the margin. 

Whatever method you use, the three most important things regarding notes aren't in taking them, but in reviewing them:

1. Review your notes as soon as possible after the meeting, lecture, or class;
2. Highlight the important information for quick subsequent reviews; and
3. Review the highlighted information immediately before the next meeting or class.

The Universal Trait of the Persistently Tidy

 

A while back when I wrote about the whole dishwasher dilemma, I talked to--who else?--Stacy, the Designated Neatnik where I work.  I thought I'd get points for being all concerned and worried about how to effectively convey whether the contents of the dishwasher were clean or dirty, a fantasy that faded as Stacy furrowed her brow in bewilderment.  "What's there to 'convey'?" she said, a little petulantly I thought.  "Wouldn't it just be easier to put the dishes away when they're clean?"

Obviously, she just didn't get it. 

Or could it be:  I'm the one who doesn't get it?  And I realized that I'd stumbled upon the the Universal Trait of the Persistently Tidy:

Neatniks Are Simpletons

I know:  I'm misusing the word "simpleton"here.  Oops!  But you know what I mean:  Neatniks keep it simple.  They don't make e-l-a-b-o-r-a-t-e strategies for, say, indicating whether the dishwasher is clean or dirty.  They unload the dishwasher and move on.

They have a do-it-now approach.  They don't assume they will have "more time later" to do the task at hand.  In fact, they feel the opposite:  they don't know when they'll have another chance to do the task before them, so they figure they might as well do it now.

Neatniks are results oriented, rather than process oriented. They aren't interested in comprehensive "systems" or rituals that require time and energy to maintain. They don't have to have an item on their "To-Do" list (written on special paper!  or input and categorized on their Blackberry!) to do the chore. When bills come in and they have the money, they write out a check and deduct the amount from their account, simple as that. They don't require special pens or stamps or for their desk to be perfectly tidy in order to do the job. 

They don't backtrack:  if they do something that's not on their list, they don't go back and write it down so they can cross it off. The Naturally Tidy that I know aren't interested in keeping logs and lists, schedules and who-did-what-when-and-how-much record-keeping.  Because they keep things simple, Neatiniks don't build up a huge store of dread about doing what needs to be done, which in turn makes chores easier to do.  

Contrary to popular belief, Neatniks aren't perfectionists.   They value timeliness over so-called "perfection."  If they don't have time to shop for the perfect gift, they give a gift card.  If they don't have time to pull out all the furniture when vacuuming before guests arrive, they vacuum the heavily-trafficked areas nonetheless.  Neatniks avoid an all-or-nothing approach.  They figure something is better than nothing.

The idea that being organized is actually easier than being a slob is perhaps the hardest to swallow and yet that's exactly  what professional organizers like Regina Leeds promise.  Certainly if you are not among the blessedly, naturally tidy, you have struggled enough with this issue. If you're like me, maybe the break-through you need is to think of getting organized as finally abolishing pointless routines, non-value-added rituals, and over-stringent standards.

--

Photo by Alpay Ulku.

This Week on the Quest: How Neatniks Do It

 First a preamble:  if you were hoping the "it" in the title above refers to some naughty business, you can stop reading right here.  This is an organization blog, folks.  We keep it clean here on the Quest. 

Or rather:  try to keep it clean.  And organized! But you know, it's a struggle.  It is.  More than a year on the Quest to get and stay organized, I sometimes feel like I'm getting there.  But staying there is a whole different matter. 

F. Scott Fitzgerald supposedly said, "the rich are different than you and I" which is pretty much the way I feel about Neatniks. What is it with their tidy desks, their crisply ironed shirts, and shiny fixtures? Don't they get bored of all that filing?  Don't they have anything better to do than scrub out the microwave with an old toothbrush?  Do they just have a high tolerance for tedium? Or have they really got things figured out?

I decided to seek out a few Neatniks and ask what the deal was:  Philosophy, attitude, strategies, and tips, please. I talked to my sister, who is the cleanest, tidiest, most organized person I know.  I talked to Stacey, the Designated Neatnik at work.  When I came upon accounts of happy Neatniks in literature and pop culture (Anais Nin, Alexandra Stoddard) I took notes.  In terms of general philosophy, strategies, and attitude, a pattern is emerging.  Tomorrow:  A Profile In Neatnik Behavior.

Above:  if only being organized was as easy as keeping markers tidy.

Reverse Psychology or: How I Finally Broke Through My Organizing Rut

Funny how taking the pressure off suddenly makes things a whole lot easier, especially when it comes to chores and tasks you'd just as soon not do.  As soon as I gave myself "permission" to enjoy the summer and not worry about making tracks on various cleaning chores and organizing projects, I've been cleaning and organizing every since.  For instance, today I:  gave both bathrooms a super-through cleaning, cleared my desk and wiped it down with the holy Magic Eraser, organized five chest drawers, dusted and polished the furniture in the bedroom, tossed catalogs, did a load of wash, cleaned up after some kitten mishaps, and straighted a few drawers in the craft closet.  It felt like I got more done today than I have in months.  

Psychologists have long suggested that substituting "I have to" with "I want to" is essential for success in making progress towards goals.  I didn't "have to" clean the bathrooms today; I wanted to, the better to free up time this weekend to do fun things.  Last weekend I didn't do any chores, but I didn't enjoy the result--yucky bathrooms and an oppressive awareness that I was procrastinating.  It felt so much better to just bite the bullet and clean the bathrooms, which then supplied the momentum for the rest of the day. 

My To-Do list is still perilously close to triple digits, but you know what?  I'm gonna give myself a break and devote the weekend to scrapbooking.  It's supposed to be sunny, so maybe we'll take the bikes out and pack up a lunch and go to the harbor read, write, play backgammon, and feed the ducks. Perhaps in doing so, I'll continue to find the motivation to make progress on that To-Do list. Wish me luck!  And good luck to all of you!  Whatever you end up doing, I hope you enjoy your weekend!

A Breath of Fresh Air

After nearly three weeks in Turkey, I'm back home and back on the Quest, which is not the same thing as being back on the wagon,  but I'm working on it.  I was actually more "on the wagon"--organized, tidy, orderly, and together--on our trip, even though we packed and unpacked a total of 12 times in 17 days (six hotel rooms in 4 different cities).  The constant packing and unpacking could have been a recipe for disaster or at least frustration, but by and large it went smoothly, with a minimum of angst or drama.  In fact, each time I packed things up, it got easier instead of harder.  As the trip progressed, we established certain what-goes-where standards--dirty laundry in the front pockets, for instance--and were better able to arrange things with the benefit of trial-by-error knowledge: dark and long-sleeved clothing were relegated to the bottom of the luggage while their light-colored and light-weight counterparts got priority placement near the top, and the contents of purses, day-packs, and camera bags settled into a predictable short-list of essential items.  Routine is the word that comes to mind when thinking of the order that was quickly established and nearly effortlessly maintained.  And yet "routine" is exactly what often bogs me down on any number of projects, whether creative or organizational. 

How can a single concept--in this case, the idea of "routine"-- be a comfort and an aid in some circumstances, yet disagreeably restrictive in others?   Maybe the problem isn't with "routine" per se, but with the particular "routine" at hand. 

The helpful routines we developed on our trip shared a number of attributes; perhaps the most important is that they were simple and pertinent to our goals.  They helped streamline and focus the process.  They had a point.

In contrast, once back home, I saw how cumbersome many previously-established domestic routines now seemed, how pointless or needlessly elaborate.  I'd rather toss freshly-laundered clothes in a pile to be ironed, for instance, than just fold them and put them away, quite as if a gigantic pile of (progressively more) wrinkly clothes was better than minimally wrinkled clothes neatly folded, stacked, and put away. 

One of the unsettling things about vacations is that they disrupt routines, which, paradoxically, is what also makes them so refreshing and valuable.  There have been many years we haven't been able to go on a real trip, but it's possible to get some of the greatest benefits of a vacation without going anywhere.  The key is to switch things around a bit. Get up early if you usually sleep in on the weekends, or give yourself a little bit of peace by retiring later than usual. Re-think what and why you do the things you do and consider if there aren't options to streamline, to simplify,  to cut things down--or even out.  Ask for help. Try somebody else's way. Do things in a different order. Give yourself a break, even if it's only for a few minutes to collect your thoughts or scribble down some ideas.  Vacations are nice, but they are time-limited.  Trying something new or forging a positive change--however small--has the potential to produce results that long outlive the season at hand. 

*This weekend, I plan on establishing a Flickr account to post more pix of our vacation, for those who are interested.

Greetings from Cappadoccia!

 

For those of you who've never heard of Cappadoccia, it's a region in the middle of Turkey and happens to be the first leg of our vacation to celebrate our 20th anniversary.  My plan a few weeks ago was that if I could just write two posts a day on the weekends and another couple extra posts during the week, I'd have my posts all lined up to go for the entire 2+ weeks we'd be gone, and thus the Quest would not be interrupted by Vacation Catatonia, which is what happens when you eat too much baklava.  Of course, because I'm not yet Really Organized but still an Organization Wannabe, I did not write the  extra posts.  I then imagined I could write my posts, um, the day I left, nevermind that I had to work half the day and hadn't yet started packing all that much.  Or the airplane!  I could write on the airplane!  Or;  in the place we are staying in Cappadoccia!  Notice I did not say "the hotel we are staying at in Cappadoccia" because we are not staying in a hotel; we are staying in a cave.  I kid you not.  It is a very nice cave, but a cave nevertheless.  But surely caves carved out of volcanic rock in the middle of Turkey have wi-fi, right? 

 
Above:  home sweet cave.

So, folks, I miscalculate a little, and for that I apologize.  I do, however, have a ton of great topics for the Quest, some of which are new takes on old favorites and some that we've never before visited, so there should be a lot of great content this summer to look forward to when we return mid-July.  In the meantime, I'll try to log on when I can to share O-Quest insights or maybe a few vacation pix and stories, assuming, of course, that Vacation Catatonia doesn't set in.  But I don't know if I'll be able to avoid it; the baklava here is awfully good.

Procrastination Experts to the Rescue! Finding the Time to Exercise (or do anything else)

One of my very first posts on the Quest had to do with procrastination--and referred to a book by psychologists Jane Burka and Lenora Yuen of the same name.  One of the fascinating ideas Burka and Yuen explore is the way procrastinators experience time.    They offer a number of strategies that are specifically designed to address common misconceptions, pitfalls, and time-wasting patterns that are common to procrastinators. 

One such strategy is the "un-schedule,"  a method developed by psychologist Neil Fiore and detailed in his book, The Now Habit: A Strategic Program for Overcoming Procrastination and Enjoying Guilt-Free Play.  "The un-schedule is a weekly calendar of all of your committed activities," explain Burka and Yuen (B & Y).  One of its main advantages is that by honestly assessing how you expect to spend your time, you can see how much time you really have available to work towards any particular goal.

I've found that the "un-schedule" is  useful for things I don't want to do and am thus absolutely, positively convinced I have no time for--like exercising.  Convinced I don't have a single hour in an entire week to take a swim, lift some weights, or take a yoga class, I made a quick spreadsheet and started filling in the time. 

Following the direcitons in the book, I wrote down everything I could predict doing in the coming week, no matter how trivial. "If you always watch the evening news, Monday night sports, or other favorite television programs, put them down, " B & Y advise. I don't watch the evening news or any kind of sport, unless you count watching Patti Blagojevich, Sanjaya, and a couple of the Baldwin brothers hang by their arms until they fall in an attempt to get immunity on I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!  "Remember, we are not asking you to write down what you should be doing," B & Y write, which means I can actually feel virtuous admitting my Celebrity addiction. True, this meant I had five hours a week to watch has-beens, also-rans, or, in the case of Patti, a never-ran, bicker and eat live bugs. So?

In the end, even after taking into account time toted up watching Celebrity, as well as surfing, sleeping, and the rather ambigious "fun weekend activities" in addition to working, writing, commuting, eating, and doing (rather minimal) housework, I still had a good 7 hours available to schedule in some exercise.  Guess it's time to start looking into that yoga class, after all.

 

Above: The shaded areas indicate potential time to work on a particular goal--i.e. exercising.

Below: Download  your own "un-schedule" (pdf reader required)

Download Unschedule blank

Filing Strategies: Separating Tasks from Records and What to Do With Each

Yesterday I wrote about filing strategies that just don't work. One common mistake is the habit of mixing paperwork associated with tasks with paperwork kept for archival or record-keeping purposes. Other efficiency-busters: "pre-filing" paperwork in a temporary file box instead of filing it straight-away in its permanent file; "stash-and-dash" filing, in which paperwork is not dealt with or processed but stored in attractive files or other containers with the vague, optimistic intention of getting to it, eventually; and "non-filing," or letting piles creep up to the point that  your entire desk reassembles a gigantic in-box. Happily, there's a solution for every problem, at least when it comes to organizing.  Here are some techniques that have been working out well for me:

Separate Tasks from Filing

Basically, there are three types of paperwork:

1. trash: envelopes, advertisements that come with bills, fliers for events you're not interested in, coupons for products you don't use or stores you don't frequent, duplicates, old or outdated materials, numbers or notes you no longer need, manuals, receipts, or warranties from products you no longer own, etc. 
2. things to file: receipts and records associated with taxes, warranties and owners manuals, notes and research for projects, account information, financial records, significant correspondence, appraisals, product information, insurance policies, cv or resume, benefit information, dental, health, and immunization records, etc.
3. things to act on: names, numbers, and addresses to input; accounts to reconcile; calls to make; correspondence (rsvps, thank you notes, job applications, birthday cards, recommentations, invitations) to write; numbers to check; questions to ask; decisions to make; products to register; policies to review; things to return or exchange; taxes or claims to file; new files to make.

Group Like with Like

As you separate the things you need to act on from that which you need to file, go ahead and make loose groupings of categories--all banking stuff goes together, as with work-related stuff or things associated for a particular class or hobby.  I stop processing paper once I have a good-sized pile--about 2" or 3"--that needs filing.  Because everything in the "file pile"  has already been vetted and confirmed (i.e. it's not trash and it isn't something that needs immediate action), I know what to do with it and where it will go.   (Note:  if I don't know what to do something or if I need to make a new file for it, the item goes into the "action/task" pile, instead.)  I then start digging through the file pile, pulling out five to ten items at a time to file so as to break the project into manageable chunks. With like items grouped loosely together in the pile, the filing goes even more quickly.

Stashing leftover unfiled items in a box or "to file" file doesn't work for me; I just end up forgetting about the stuff.  So I try to go through only the amount of things I'm able to process/file at any given time.  If I don't have the time to file everything I've processed, I've been leaving the pile on my desk to process as I have the time.

Put Grouped Action Items In Their Own Folder

This was the real toughie:  what to do with the stuff you need to do something with?  David Allen in his book, Getting Things Done recommends putting "action items" in their own separate folder, but I balked at the details: Allen recommends having unlimited (i.e. hundreds) of plain manila folders on hand, each containing their one designated task, the name of which you print with the aid of a label-maker.  Folks, this is just too much work.  Plus:  plain manila envelopes are ugly.  And:  wouldn't most people be overwhelmed with so many folders in front of them?

And yet: the system has its advantages.  To-do's are often associated with paperwork--numbers, receipts, notes, bills, proof of purchase, service records, etc.  And so it makes sense to have a file for to-do's, in addition to the more familiar to-do list.  But surely you don't need hundreds of files? Especially ugly files?  With computer-printed labels? 

As I made my way through my own piles, I decided I would: 

1. Group actions items like-with-like (i.e. numbers to file; files to make; concert tickets to order), one group of actions per file.
2. Use pretty files; in my case, I had some wonderful striped files I'd been saving up.  The smooth texture and lovely colors give a little lift to task-list chores, and they are pretty enough to store on or near my desk. I decided to use "interior" file folders for tasks, while archived information is stored in hanging folders in a nearby file cart.
3. Limit the number of action files.  In my case, I limit my action files to the 12 pretty ones that came as a set. I find this keeps me focused and prevents me from feeling overwhelmed.  Once the 12 files are all used, I set aside some time to do the tasks at hand, which assures things gets done and provides a steady turn-over for the task files. 
4. Skip labels.  Since I only have 12 action files open at any given time, I save time and don't bother with labels.  After I complete the task at hand, I either toss/shred the info in the task file, or I file it away permanently in a hanging file.  I then re-use the task file for a new task.
5. Drop a piece of plain copy paper or organizer paper in each of the task folders and quickly jot down the task, i.e. "Call insurance agent about rate increase."  I've found this helps immensely, as it's easy to forget what task, exactly, I intended to do.  In the above example, for instance, an insurance bill in a task folder could mean anything from asking about a good driver's incentive to arranging for more (or less) coverage, adding a driver, or clarifying a policy.  By writing the task out, you make it easier to delegate the task to someone else;  you also create a designated place to take notes and capture key information that may arise in the process.

Tomorrow I'll demonstrate task folders in action to provide a few examples and help you brainstorm ways you can use task folders to help get things done.

Processing Paper: What Hasn't Worked in the Past, and Why

This past weekend I decided to Get Serious about the paper mess that has yet again accumulated on and around my desk.  As I made my way through pile after pile, I realized the papers represented two main categories:  things to toss-or-file, and things to act on or do.

In fact, this distinction is a key point in David Allen's book, Getting Things Done, a fact that went over my head when I first read the book in the fall.  This time in dealing with my (considerably less supreme) paper mess, I could see the difference between the owner's manuals and tax receiptsand health records--archival information, in other words, that merely needed to be put away--and the flier from the ballet, an invitation to an event, a scribbled phone number, and the explanation of benefits from my insurance for a service I didn't recall having.  These were things that required action--to decide whether or not to get tickets, to RSVP, to input the phone number in my address book, or call to investigate the claim. 

Seeing both the archival information and what Allen calls "actionable items" jumbled together, I began to see the mistakes I've made in the past when it comes to processing paper.  In doing so, I could better understand how to apply some of the tips and techniques Allen proposes.

Mistake #1:  Jamming files willy-nilly with paperwork of all types, subjects, and purposes, in an effort to reign in paper mess.

This was bad, folks.  It's the paper equivalent of the stash-and-dash: just grab anything and everything and stuff it in these cute folders.  In my defense, I did not delude myself into thinking things were actually "filed" in this way.  My delusion was that "at least this looks a little better--and I'll eventually get around to filing this!"

What's the problem with this approach? What's right about it?  What needed to get tossed never got tossed, the archival information never got filed, and the to-do's never got done. 

Mistake #2: (semi) filing items in a temporary "holding" box after making the original keep-or-purge decisions.

 

 

I know:  some people can fit their entire filing system in such a box.  And if I could fit all my files in this box, there'd be absolutely nothing wrong with storing my archival information in it. But I am not one of those people, folks.  This could hold six months worth of files. Maybe.

What's the problem with this approach?  In this case, the problem is two-fold:  yet again, I have tasks intermingled with archival information.  The other problem is the rather pointless and time-consuming half-measure of semi-filing items under the letter in the alphabet, before transferring them to their proper/permanent file. 

Mistake #3: Treating the entire desk top like an enormous in-basket.

I have all this stuff to go through, where should I put it?  Oh, there's a place here!  In-between these two boxes!  Perfect!  I'll never find it now!

This approach begs two questions:  What am I thinking?  and: Will I ever learn?

 Tasks undifferentiated from archival information--is there a pattern here?  As we saw in Mistake #1, undifferentiated piles = to-do's not done, and files not filed.

Stay tuned tomorrow to see the three techniques that are helping to turn my paper mess around.

Fighting The Paper Monster

Since starting my Organization Quest last July, I've made great strides in some areas, which I've been able to maintain and keep up easily enough. Take the medicine cabinets:  once organized they've pretty much stayed organized.  Same with the cabinet underneath the sink.  The craft closet needs straightening every now and then, but mostly just the lower drawers the kittens still get into.  The clothes closet is mostly organized, while my shoe closet is a study in precision.  But the one area I can't seem to get--and keep--a grip on is the never-ending paper piles.

Why, exactly, is paper such a problem?  Unlike craft items, or clothes or shoes or medicine cabinet supplies, paper in all its permutations--receipts and catalogs, junk mail, bills and fliers, coupons and notices, statements and policies--keep coming at you, with nary an effort on your part.  You don't have to go out and seek paper; it will find you.  And then it's those endless decisions:  do I need this?  What should I do with this?  How should I file it?  How long should I keep it?  How will I know when to get rid of it?  etc. etc. etc. It's questions like these that drives a person to snack cakes, nevermind that the word "creme" is a synonym for motor oil.

In spite of this, I decided last weekend that  I needed a "desk day" to take care of outstanding paperwork and file some things away. Three hours into the project, I changed my mind:  forget a "desk day," what I needed was a "desk decade" to go through all the piles of $#!& that have accumulated in  the last few months alone.  Still, I re-committed this past weekend and logged another 5 hours, not counting the time wasted trying to fix the unfixably broken shredder.  I'm not out of the weeds yet, but at least I've cleared a bit of space in which to work. 

When You Don't Feel Like Doing Anything, You Might As Well Clean

A day after I was down for the count with a migraine, I was still dragging myself about and not inclined to do much of anything, even something fun.  What to do when you don't feel like doing anything?  I've noticed that lolling about or otherwise indulging a mood usually makes you feel worse.  Forcing oneself to do something fun--go to cafe or a movie, for instance--seems to have a 50-50 success/failure ratio.  For me, the one surefire way out of the doldrums is to make progress, no matter how small, on some project, especially one I've been avoiding.  Scrubbing down the bathroom, going through a handful of receipts that has collected in my pockets or my purse, getting the mysterious gunk that collects behind the facet--these all qualify as baby-step moves to a better mood.  When you don't feel like doing anything, you might as well clean.

Why?  The principle works on several different levels. For many people, cleaning seems like A Huge Drag, an unfortunate but necessary requirement of adult life, like submitting taxes or learning not to ask about people's sex lives, even when you're dying to know.  According to the Cleaning Is A Huge Drag principle, any time spent cleaning is time wasted, so you might as well clean when you're in a bad mood anyway. 

Once you've made a bit of progress, however, a magical switch occurs:  just as cleaning when you're in a good mood can put you in a bad mood, cleaning when you're in a bad mood most often puts you in a good mood.  Don't ask me why; philosophy isn't my strong suit.  I just know that if you get moving and start doing anything--clear a drawer or counter, wipe the sink or stove, vacuum a room or sweep up a corner, one thing leads to another and oftentimes you surprise yourself by just how much you accomplish.  With a nice, cleaned-or-cleared space, your mood lifts, motivation rebounds, and the day is saved.  Now go out and enjoy it!

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

This Week: The Importance of Follow-Through

When it comes to organizing, I often stop just short of my goal.  This fall when I wrote about this phenomenon, I called it the "10 yards left to go" syndrome, but with football season now behind us, I'd just as soon get literary and call it the Amarata Complex, named after the character in Gabriel Garcia Marquez's novel, 100 Years of Solitude. Amarata is visited by an angel who advises her to sew a funeral shroud for herself, the more elaborate the better, because once she's done with it she'll die.  I can think of no better explanation as to why I'll spend a good 10 hours cleaning and organizing a room, only to overlook, ignore, side-step, neglect, forget, or otherwise blow-off doing the last little bit so that the room looks and feels "done."  Because you just know that once the last box of papers is shredded or filed, or once the last shelf in the kitchen is completely organized, God Himself is going to swoop down and say, "Well, shoot. Obviously your work here on earth is done."  And just like Amarata, you'll be pushing up daisies in no time.

This thus explains why I spent hours upon hours this fall organizing my study and even the craft closet in it, yet there are still collapsing piles of art supplies around, under, and yes, behind my desk.  My chrome shelving units are in a state of utter disgrace, and I've dumped, consciously or not, a mystifying stack of boxes, bags, and sundry supplies smack in the middle of my Fame and Reputation center according to Feng Shui.  Other examples of areas left un-done include the little aisle-way of debris that has collected by the bed and an enormous empty corrugated box that has been in the living room since June for no other reason than that the kittens enjoy playing with it.  Obviously, I need some kind of organization intervention. 

So that's what we're looking at this week--tackling the bits and pieces of projects, the last hour or so in a room or area, the final push before the optional finishing touches--that you know you have to do before you can say:  okay, this is done.   Because if you're like me, it's time to cross a thing or two off your list and move on.

The First Weekend of the New Year is a Great Time to Get Started On Your Resolution

It's soon-to-be three days into the new year--how are you doing on your various resolutions?  No progress yet?  Me neither.  Yesterday I used my lack of forward motion as an excuse to try various truffles my sister sent for the holidays.  Thus wallowing in chocolate, I decided it was Just Too Hard to call the charity of my choice to schedule a donation pick up, or to clear off and dust a few bookcase shelves. 

But as Scarlett O'Hara once said, tomorrow is another day, and with the whole weekend stretching out before us, there's plenty of time to make some progress on the new year's resolution at hand. When it comes to organizing, I've found that even one hour of work yields noticeable results.  In an hour, you can clear out a drawer or two, clean the fridge or a bathroom, tackle a couple shelves in a cabinet, or file a good stack of papers.  You can make progress on your taxes or address book, archive or get rid of a hundred--or more!--emails,  or tackle a corner of the living room or your bedroom. 

When I'm working on an organizing project, I try to put in about three hours a day, both weekend days, usually in the afternoon.  That way, I have time to enjoy the morning, catch up with family and friends, go for a walk or out to eat, and come back ready to focus my attention and energy for a while.  If I don't give myself permission to have a little fun first, I get restless and edgy, which in turn makes me crabby and resentful.  Not a good prescription for success. 

Occasionally we fall.  What will make your organizing resolution a success is consistent effort over time.  Some months will be better than others; there will be some weeks you won't move forward at all.  It's okay to have a lull; what's important is to give yourself permission to come back from that lull.  All is not lost if you don't meet your original goal: re-chart, re-start, and keep moving forward anyway.  

Half the House Has Gone To Hell In A Handbasket

The Stash-n-Dash post I wrote the other day was really a reminder to myself.  With all the cookie excitement in the last couple weeks, the kitchen actually looks pretty darn good--having a small kitchen actually forces me to keep things up, otherwise I wouldn't have the space to work.  And since the area is so small, it doesn't take that long to clean up.  So I'm good on the kitchen front.  And the living room isn't exactly terrible.  The bedroom could be better.  The guest bath is sort of an embarrassment. As for the rest of the place: it's pretty much gone to hell in a handbasket.

I could, at this very moment, grab a bucket and the mop and get at least one chore out of the way before going to bed tonight, but I'd much rather speculate as to why a handbasket is the vehicle of choice for going to hell.  What could it possibly offer, aside from certain alliterative qualities? But then why not go to hell on a Harley?  Or in a Honda?  What exactly is a "handbasket" anyway, and how does it differ from the garden-variety baskets you get at places like Pier One and World Market?  Do you get to choose your own handbasket, or is that part of the punishment--to get stuck with some god-forsaken monstrosity that doesn't even have a liner?  Or worse:  a plaid liner. With a clashing bow.  And your name embroidered on it.

Once you get to hell, can you get rid of the handbasket already?  Or are you stuck with it forever, like a bad nose job?  And what if you get a second chance?  You never hear of anyone getting out of hell in a handbasket. This seems to imply a rather limiting, one-way quality regarding the navigational feature of handbaskets. What's up with that?  Can't you upgrade to a two-way model, just in case?  Or have I just identified a potentially huge market?  Because let's face it, it's easy to let things go.  But don't we all deserve a little redemption?  Don't we--and our homes--deserve a second chance?