LET'S PRETEND - Segment 4 (Scroll down for earlier segments)

     In our office, my wife loves everything organized nicely in a file folder.  That’s probably why I can never find anything.   Having a preference for Alternative Order, I like the “pocket” file.  This is where I keep important notes and other critical information.  Important notes and other critical information mean anything I consider humorous that could go into a yard sale best-seller. 

     According to my teachers, who were willing to speak only on condition of anonymity, I never took notes in school.  I’m sure this was because I found very little humor in algebra, biology and woodshop.  I also had to deal with more important matters, like trying to remember where I was supposed to meet my wandering mind after school. 

    Today I am a prolific note taker, writing notes on any scrap of paper I can find; old receipts, corners of newspapers, napkins, legal documents….These are not just any notes. These are important notes; notes that could go into a highly disclaimed book.

 

    They first go into my “pocket” file, where they remain until it looks as though I’m carrying a water bottle in each pocket.  From there, they go to the computer, or to the plastic bag archives for future use.  After five years, if there is no evidence that the archives have been touched by human hands, they mysteriously vanish into the night, most likely in the garbage.  That could be the reason I’ve seen several sanitation workers sifting through our trash; probably looking for material for a book…”America’s Funniest Garbage.” 

     Occasionally, I think I’ve misplaced them, so I’ll ask my wife, “Connie, have you seen my notes?”

     

     “Here they are,” she says, as she hands me a little white paper ball.

     Once again, I have to remind myself to get my notes into a safe place before she starts washing my clothes. 

     I once thought I could rescue some of my hardly-sought-after material by throwing several little white paper balls into the dryer.  I don’t need to tell you how that worked.  As soon as I opened the dryer door, I was staring at the remnants of a paper blizzard. 

     “Maybe if you run outside to the dryer vent, you can hear some laughs coming out,” said my wife. 

    “That’s why you need to get rid of those crazy scraps of paper,” ranted Lester.  “You can’t sit outside all night with your ear to the vent.  People will start asking questions.”

     “What do you suggest?” I asked.

     “Use my method,” he said.  “Write notes on your hands and arms.”

   

     “I don’t want to look like the front page of the local paper, “I answered.  “Besides, every time you go to the library, people ask to check you out for two weeks.  And the librarian wants to file one of your arms for future reference.” 

     Lester said it was a small price to pay for eliminating the potential of losing valuable information.

     I thought Lester was a lone steely in a sea of marbles until my good friend and teacher, Tommy Hawk, told me his students did the same thing.  “I offer them paper, but they prefer keeping all their notes on their hands and arms.  I guess it’s good to have students who are open books.”

     Personally, I don’t want to be an open book.  I’m not comfortable having people ask, “Can I look at the back of your hand?  I think it has the directions to my hotel.”…”Remember to look under your arm.  You have a dinner appointment at 6.”…”I love what you said on your elbow.  It was hysterical.”…”That was a very funny story on your wrist.”…”If you hold your arm still, I can finish reading.” 

     I think I’ll stay with my pocket files.  

To be continued ...check back soon

LET'S PRETEND - Segment 3 (Scroll down for earlier segments)

     I once mowed my entire yard several times in search of my favorite hammer.  The yard began to look like a putting green. There was still no hammer. I became suspicious.  While I was in the garage, I noticed someone had been tampering with the lid on my old, unused toolbox.  Throwing the lid open, I was shocked at what I found.  There, in plain sight, was my hammer.  “Why isn’t this in the yard,” I asked my son, “in the high grass where it won’t get lost?”

     “Sorry, Dad,” he said, “I thought I had left it in the yard, but I guess I forgot and mistakenly put it in the toolbox.  I’ll try not to do it again.”

     He was usually very good about leaving things out, but he probably had other things on his mind, and just forgot.  Just as a precaution, I put a deadbolt lock on the toolbox.  If any organized person got into it, it would be lost forever.

     I now have posted in the garage, the saying of a wise man…”Chaos(I like to call it ’Alternative Order’) means never storing your tools in an obvious place.”  Whether he was wise, or not, I don’t know.  But he probably had his own tools at one time.

     It’s okay to read about highly effective, organized people as a matter of humorous reading, but don’t try to be like them.  Order will not make you happy.  Sure, it makes them happy as they go straight to a file drawer and pull out important legal papers.  But that isn’t you.  You’re more comfortable looking for important documents under the bed, behind a five hundred pound bookcase, in the garbage, under the driver’s seat in your car; that is you.  Alternative Order is your comfort zone.  Being organized would make you a miserable wretch.

     But be alert!  There are people lurking nearby that want to organize your life; to turn make-believe into reality.   Just today my own wife, forgetting about past failures, made another attempt to bring order to my life.  She bought me a monthly planner.  It was one that I didn’t have, so I put it with my collection.  For those who collect them, it is a very nice gift.  I have attended several monthly planner trade shows, where people from all across the United States meet to display and trade planners.  It’s very much like a stamp show.  If you trade, always make sure there is no writing inside.  That devalues them.  My greatest find was a monthly planner on a stone tablet.

 

    She also told me about someone in our area who could come in and organize our garage.  “They will create storage where there is no storage,” she said.

     “Frankly, I don’t know what’s so great about that,” I told her.  “I’ve done the same thing for years, and it was free!”

To be continued...check back soon

   

LET'S PRETEND - Segment 2 (Scroll down for opening segment)

     Gramps’ ranch was the perfect setting for two young boys with wild and vivid imaginations.  It was there that we enjoyed our favorite pastime, playing cowboys and Indians.  As long as we didn’t shoot arrows in the house and set fire to the outbuildings, we were welcome to pretend. 

     I still love to pretend.  For example, every New Year’s Day I will say, “This year I’m going to get organized.”

     “You’ve still got that wild and vivid imagination,” my wife will say.  Of course, I’m pretending.  It’s a universal truth that you can’t be organized when chaos is your strength.   

     Even as a child, I was not familiar with “organization.”  I once asked my mother about it, and she said it wasn’t included in our DNA.  I thought DNA meant “Do Not Ask.” So I never mentioned it again.

   Although I witnessed numerous UFO sightings growing up, encounters with organization were almost non-existent.  As kids, my cousins and I would play a delightfully entertaining game called Hide and Seek.  One of us would be given time to hide, then, at the signal, everyone else would join in the hunt; like a fox hunt without horses and hounds.

     As an adult, I still enjoy a rendition of that game.  It’s called Lose and Seek.  The object of the game is to use a tool, and then lay it in such a place that it will require several days to find.  It’s a much more difficult game than Hide and Seek. 

     For me, it was much easier finding kids than tools.  Of course, we really weren’t very smart as kids.  I suspect if we’d given each other tools’ names like “Screwdriver” or “Hammer,” we would still be looking for each other.

     I was using one of my prized screwdrivers recently.  When finished, I laid it in such a place that it couldn’t be found.  Finding it would probably require a widespread tool hunt.  After 24 hours, I called the Missing Tools Hotline.  “I would like to file a missing tools report,” I stated.

     “We’ll need a name,” the man replied.

     “Screwdriver,” I answered.

     “Can you give us a description?” he asked.

     “Slender; nice handle; easy to work with; always shows up for work.”

     “We’ll need a picture of your screwdriver.  Also, before we organize a nationwide tool hunt and put your screwdriver on billboards, we’d like to ask you to do one thing,” he said.

     “I’ll do anything to find my screwdriver,” I answered.

     “Try mowing your lawn,” he suggested.

  Thanks to his keen insight and timely advice, I was able to locate my screwdriver almost immediately.  I quickly learned that the lawnmower is an excellent device for finding tools. Sure, you have to be alert for flying shrapnel, but you always find your tool.

To be continued...check back soon