There’s nothing I love more than a list. Most of the time, I have at least two on the go: a general to-do list and a grocery list. Some days, those lists are all there is between me and complete emotional chaos.
To my joy, my daughter has a similar fondness for lists and related tools such as spreadsheets, calendars and planning books; basically, any technique that helps us feel in control — at least somewhat — of our lives on both the macro and micro levels.
Our quest for the perfect system continues and, while we may never achieve true organizational perfection, we do feel a sense of, I’ll admit it, superiority over those around us who eschew lists in favour of what can only be called disorganization. We are not shy to say – to one another, if not to those family members who take a more haphazard approach – how much easier our lives are because of our advanced list-making skills.
Groupies
According to a recent New Yorker article, we each have about 150 tasks to deal with every day. My days are full to the brim, but I’ve never made a list with anywhere close to that many items. I will admit that I include such mundane and routine activities as showering, making the bed and feeding the cat during unusually high-stress times, because I find checking them off to be soothing, but even when I do that, I certainly don’t get to 150. Whatever would be included in such a list?
In her article, Patricia Marx explores the concept of “Admin Nights,” which are informal social gatherings of people who come together to take care of the administrivia of their lives. As one invitation read:
“Bring your laptop and all the boring tasks you’ve been avoiding. Cancel subscriptions, book appointments, clear your inbox, sort bills. Way less painful when you’re not doing it alone.”
Marx attended a number of gatherings of this type, taking along her own to-do list, which contained such items as emails she needed to write, play tickets she needed to buy, and larger projects – memorizing a map of the world, one continent at a time – and, perhaps most aspirationally “consolidate to-do lists.”
What makes a good list?
There are lists, and then there are good lists. I strive for good lists, which can involve a few steps, because I’m a bit obsessive. For instance, before I can make a grocery list, I have to figure out what I am going to cook over the next few days. Next, I jot down the ingredients I’ll need. After that, I check to see what’s in my fridge, freezer and pantry. Then and only then is it time for the grocery list. To be a good list, it has to be organized by category of food – dairy, produce, canned goods, etc. – with the categories appearing in the order I will find those foods in whatever grocery store/s I am going to.
A good grocery list is important, but it’s the to-do list that is at the centre of my emotional well-being. I end each workday by creating my to-do list for the following day. These lists have to be realistic. I don’t want an overly-ambitious list, because by the end of the day I want to have checked off all or almost all of the items on it. Irritatingly, my ageing brain just doesn’t retain details the way it used to, so my lists are more exhaustive than they used to be. By this I mean that I can’t always rely on a single word to remind me of what I need to do, so I need to spell out the minutiae. (In fact, I now sometimes make a list of things I need to remember to put on my real list.)
My to-do list for today started out with seven items, including a few quickies – appointments I needed to make, items I wanted to order – and three substantive tasks. I’m happy to report that, by 2:00 p.m., I had completed all of the quickie items and two of the big tasks, with lots of time left to head into work on the third. And, I’ve jotted down a couple of items for tomorrow’s list.
I’ve recently added a couple of new tools to my organizational toolbox. First, I have a – not yet completed – copy of “I’m Dead. Now What?” This planner includes places to record all kinds of information ranging from personal and medical information, important documents, funeral and burial instructions to passwords and key contact information. While I hope the planner will be useful to those who have to deal with my affairs after I die, it has already been helpful to me in figuring out how to organize the myriad details we leave behind when we leave this mortal coil.
Second, I have posted a three-month planner on one wall of my office. Using dry erase markers, with a different colour for each person whose activities I need to keep track of, I can see at a glance what’s going on in my world. I’ve reserved the hot pink marker for what I call “joy,” which includes social plans, concerts, dinners out and the like.
I feel the zen already, even though the planner has only been on the wall for two days. . . .