And…right now every single person who has ever worked with me in any capacity is laughing until tears run down his/her leg.
Jen? <guffaw> Not organized? <hiccup> Seriously? That’s rich, tell me another one! <gasp>
I am the very model of an organized individual. I could lose (and have lost) an entire day at IKEA. The Container Store gives me chills. I get twitchy when my desk is the slightest bit out of sorts, I have several furniture-quality filing cabinets that look like sideboards, and I’m about to take a machete to my kitchen because it is so poorly laid out my brain aches. I draw the line at matching the boys’ socks or hanging my clothes by color; a girl has to have limits.
But time. I cannot manage my time for love or money, and it sure as hell ain’t for lack of trying. All the way up until I had children (heh, that’s the tipoff right there, isn’t it?), I was Time Management Queen. Well, maybe Duchess. Now, I’m a Peasant at best. I lived and died by my Day Timer, getting progressively better ones until I got a PDA for Christmas one year. Bliss. The iPhone was a dream come true: calendar AND tasks list AND contacts AND planning AND Words With Friends.
After A was born, that child who would not sleep and wanted company in the wee hours, my time was no longer my own. Instead of planning out my hours based on what needed to be done and where I needed to be, it was now entirely based on WHAT CAN I GET DONE WHILE HE IS TAKING A VERY PRECIOUS AND VERY VERY BRIEF NAP? Then double that when J was born. And now quadruple it by homeschooling. It’s only been ten (holy crap almost eleven) years and I still can’t get a handle on it. My brain has a bad case of Hey look! A squirrel!
Case in point. While writing this very post, the boys barreled in the door from Cub Scouts. I folded and put away a load of laundry, got J a snack, corralled A into pajamas, talked to Tom, and sketched out tomorrow’s school plans. Fifteen minutes minimum, and I’m still being interrupted now. No, I do not have an office with a door; that will be the first major renovation. Eventually.
I’ve done time-logs, I have tried several different calendar/to-do apps, I’ve been turning off Facebook/Twitter/various time sucks. And still time gets away from me. If this was my desk I would have gone batshit crazy long ago. (Pulled away again, to push the boys through their bedtime oatmeal, have a discussion about Greenland, pour Benadryl for the snotty one, wipe up aforementioned oatmeal, threaten bodily harm if the clothes do not get put away in the correct dresser drawers in a timely manner<and yes, the correct drawers, for otherwise they’re jammed in there and can’t be opened>)
Courtesy of the interruptions, my train of thought has derailed. This is my entire day. For nearly eleven years.
Needless to say, this cannot continue. My quality of work disappoints me, “timely” and “email reply” haven’t so much as flirted in months, and I feel like I’m just spinning my wheels. Wait, arise from my warm slumber earlier, you say? Only if you want me to rip off the head of anyone within arm’s reach for the next seven hours.
I hate this and have no idea how to go about changing it. It’s most noticeable to me now because I worked full time for three months this fall and my time was rigidly scheduled. The great majority of my life fell by the wayside, but my time was scheduled, by God! I’m open to suggestions here, people. Hit me with your best time management suggestions.
Organize your house? Um…no.