Having OCD or being a neat-nick is not something of which I can be accused. My German mother was...all during my childhood. She was absolutely obsessed with cleaning, to the point of dusting the house every day. I've not spoken with her in some time but I am led to believe that she has abandoned this obsession, having replaced it with others. God willing some of those are healthier obsessions...but who knows. Anyway, I only dust when company is expected in large numbers, or when engineering a major rearrangement of furniture (something I love and which will likely be the topic of another blog post), or when moving. I vacuum much more often only because the results of not doing so are (I believe) far more obvious and I do have some capacity for self-consciousness and, apparently, that is where it resides.
But back to childhood and cleaning habits. People with genuine OCD develop it in many areas beyond cleaning...counting steps, flipping light switches a certain number of times, etc. That switch never flipped on in me. But I keep a distinct memory from age 13 when an appreciation for time management and planning awoke in me. It was an early evening when I had stolen some time to walk to my friend's house, about thirty minutes away, and it was time to head home and handle some chores. I say "stolen" because I was not permitted to do much of anything that was not in service to, or for the benefit of, Her Majesty. Cleaning, working in the garden, doing housework...all received the stamp of approval. However...going to a friend's house to hang out, staying after school to participate in sports, trying out for a part in a play...all of these were met with a blank stare and a quick veto, simply because they did nothing to enhance the value or appearance of our home or Her lifestyle. The occasional sleepover was all right, but in its wake came a period of servitude that ensured that I had earned the right to act like a normal American pre-teen. So, as any (surprisingly understandable) pre-teen would respond, I chased normal by stealing time. Later, I would cut classes and keep silent about early release days in order to go record-shopping after school. But...more digression and possibly another wonderfully nostalgic blog to come.
This particular early evening, I hoofed it homeward with chores on my mind. As a result of my detour to the friend's house, I now had a smaller window of time in which to finish the list of chores on my plate. Not quite panicking, but wondering how best to handle finishing two loads of laundry, dirty dishes and kitchen from dinner, and vacuuming a few rooms. The wild card was that the exact time by which all had to be done was indefinite. My mother worked in a restaurant in the evening, and depending on business, she could get home as early as 9:00 PM or as late as midnight. As I walked, I let my mind touch on the horrifying possibility of walking around the bend in the driveway to the open garage to see her Mercedes sedan parked inside, the precise German engine still doing its slow tick as it cooled. If she beat me home, I was dead. And this was not figurative...this was the 70s, when nobody made it their business when you came to school with bruises. And if by chance some liberal school staff person did notice and have the gall to take you into a private office to nonchalantly interview you in ways that would gain your trust and keep you from clamming up and get the truth as to where said bruises came from, you would probably opt to think fast (which you learned to do) and make up a story about how you poked yourself with a tree branch while playing in the woods. Wow, okay...enough digression. And I don't know if that last one ever will result in another blog...we'll see.
So I rounded the corner with no Mercedes in sight. So far, so good! No one home to threaten to turn me in. Even better. And so my relieved mind was left to work. Where to start? 13 year olds are not the most organized people in the world. But the opportunity to triumph and save oneself can often lead one to glory and growth. And so...I began to grow. And think. And plan. And my new friend, logic, introduced itself in a quiet voice inside my head. "Which would make the most sense to start with?" it asked. "How are these different tasks structured?" And the magical thought that is the basis of my method..."Which one can be started and walked away from?" That would be Laundry. And so, I started a load of laundry...and folded the load that had been in the dryer. And the momentum felt good. When I was done folding, the wash was still going...so it was on to the next task. In case the Mercedes pulled up in a moment, which undone task was most visible? Easy...the dirty kitchen. And so, dishes were done and kitchen cleaned. Not just that, but as I worked, I realized that I could make it fun. Could I finish the dishes before that load of laundry was done? And off I went, and yes, I did. I began to clean the rest of the kitchen and was only about halfway done before the laundry was done. Into the dryer; another load in the wash; and then the next challenge...I knew I could finish the kitchen before either the washer or the dryer buzzed...but how much of the vacuuming could I get done? And I stood back for a moment, amazed at the strange little competitive facet I had found to all of this. I even realized that, if that garage door opened below, even now, I was safe. The laundry was all either done or in some machine; the kitchen was sparkling; and as for the vacuuming, I could always make up some insane story that the vacuum cleaner would not switch on all evening and now suddenly did! And so off I went...happily vacuuming and finishing all of it before it was time to go back to the laundry and fold another load just in time to throw that last load into the dryer. I was even in bed before the closing bell rang.
Now, this might all seem quite mundane. And I may seem nuts for posting it. But you've read it so you've found yourself with no room to criticize. Welcome! But put it in the context of its own time...the lens and perspective of that 13 year old who lived in domestic fear and was trying to find ways to implement some risk management...and, in the process, discovered some strategies that have followed her into adulthood and served her well. This shaped my ability to manage time and tasks very well. I call it "task stacking." It basically means the concept of pairing longer, more drawn-out tasks that run themselves for much of the time, requiring only the occasional check-in, with shorter-term tasks that require your full attention but only go for spurts. The above is an example of that. I've often been surprised to find that a lot of people do not naturally pair tasks in this way, and do not automatically see a multitude of tasks as being easily scheduled in a way that creates flow and, above all, incredible efficiency. I've seen these folks get overwhelmed and upset, and feeling trapped. Also, everyone likes a little competition, even if it is with themselves. Just that little bit of side-by-side racing can make mundane work a challenge. All that you have to do is to view tasks in terms of units of time; and, if you have ever played Tetris, you can figure out how to stack them in a way to where they measure up and fit nicely, permitting you to make the most of an hour. This small change can make a huge difference in how much can be accomplished within that hour.
This might all work very well for an afternoon of household chores...but what do you do when you've got that cluttered guestroom to clean out. Or that garage where no one has ever put anything back where they got it from? These kinds of projects can take the wind out of anyone's sails. And the payoff can be hours, days, weeks, months, or years away, especially when you never get around to any of it.
The secret? Never tell yourself that you will get it done in one weekend. As a matter of fact, never waste a weekend in cleaning out the garage...there are better things to do and that is not what weekends are for. Nothing can make for a worse Monday morning (or Sunday evening) than to realize that it's all been spent in toil, and not something enjoyable. Your weekends are your R&R time, and if you're going to work, it needs to be at something you love. Putting in your new vegetable garden, or painting your bedroom don't count as work if you really love doing those things. And, as a matter of fact, if you love tackling big projects that you can see come with a big payoff (i.e., cleaning out the garage so that you have a nice new workspace for working on your classic project car), and you can't wait to do it, then by all means...spend your weekend cleaning the garage. But if not...you can't begin the project and expect success by letting it steal your hard-earned weekend. So that leaves the question...when? From where do you get that extra, hidden time?
Easy...the weeknights. Those hours that you almost don't notice, that evaporate as you come home from work and reflect on your day, and ramp your energy down toward bedtime. Now, I am not talking about working late into the night so that you wake up tired and unrefreshed for your new day. Again...stop thinking in terms of big blocks of time. Treating a big project as if it must only be tackled with big blocks of time is where most people go wrong. Think of the tortoise and the hare, the former of whom won the race by going slow and steady; or the old saying that the greatest of journeys begins with a single step; or the line toward the end of the novel Cloud Atlas: "...what is an ocean but a multitude of drops?"
In short, chip away. Each day, or couple of days, plan to put in some time when you come home. Start dinner, change clothes, and give yourself one hour. Or a half. Or two. It depends on you and on the day. If you are genuinely tired, or don't feel well, or have made fun plans, don't worry about it. What matters is that you come home a few days a week and put in some time. As for time keeping...stick to your limits. Set an alarm! You gave yourself an hour and that is all you will do. Once that buzzer goes off, you are done. Off the hook. Go eat, go watch tv, go do whatever.
The result? Let's say it's an hour each day. What you have to see is that over the course of a week, you've put in four hours. After hat first week, stand back and survey your space. You will be amazed at what you've accomplished after just that week. And an amazing thing happens when you see your progress. You begin to enjoy it! And then, you will usually find that when that buzzer goes off, you've been on a roll and you want to keep going. Bump it up to two hours if you want. Or slap the snooze button. Week three might find you having put in twice the time as week one. Eight more hours...a full day. And it was not a precious weekend day, to boot. That weekend day can instead be spent having fun...because you have earned it. At some point, you will look at your work space and realize that you've made a huge dent...or that you are halfway there. Nothing makes for better motivation than that.
So these are my biggest tips for tackling tasks. I've used this sort of time management in my work and in my home, and it's empowered me to get a tremendous amount of work done and responsibility covered. I hope that these dorky and quirky little hints are of help to you, the reader...and that, at the very least, I've given you something new to consider.
