You Gotta Love the System

   I’m very organized.  And I love to come up with Systems.  Systems are the key to a life that doesn’t involve the daily insanity and awfulness of trying to find something---my keys, my sunglasses, my purse, the bill that I know is due today (or was it yesterday?), that little scrap of paper I wrote something very important on.  Very important.  Not that any of that has ever happened to me.

Mom, aka Jeanne Eimers & Jimmy

   And I have lots of systems; some I created myself, and some I inherited from my mom, the very organized Jeanne Eimers.  Here’s a classic Jeanne Eimers System:  always keep a “back-up” of kitchen items that you really don’t want to run out of.  So the system is this: the first time around, you buy two of, say, Jane’s Krazy Salt (did you ever use that stuff?  It’s great).  You start using one right away, and you stash the second one in the back of the cabinet.  Then, a year later or so, when you actually use up all the JK Salt, are you up the creek without a paddle—or salt shaker?  No, my friend, because you’ve got your back-up salt waiting for you in the hinterlands of the cabinet, waiting for just this moment that you anticipated all those months ago.  You will NOT have to do without salt!  Ah, life is good, as my mom loves to say.

 The system depends on two things:  First, that you and everyone in your household remember you have this system so that when that last little speck of salt has floated out of the shaker, no one panics, thus avoiding ugly accusations.  (“Who was the last one to almost use up the salt and NOT take a minute to write it on the grocery list that’s right there on the fridge door; right there in front of your face???!!” …should anyone in the family tend to resort to such uncouth displays.)  The second crucial part of the system (and this is where it can break down) depends on your family members—HUSBAND--remember to follow the system.  Because as soon as you take that back-up item out to use it, and before you even think about using it, you had better write it down on the list again.  So you can buy another back-up the very next time you shop, in anticipation of that moment, months from now…   You get the picture.  But of course a system is only as good as its users (STEVE). 

  That, I think, is my favorite system.   Here’s another:  If you have a house with multiple stories, in order to avoid a million little trips up and down, put whatever it is that belongs upstairs but is downstairs, in a little pile toward the edge of a lower stair.   Then the next time you’re going upstairs, you just reach down and scoop up that little pile (warning:  this only works with small things; otherwise, injury could result, for which I have no real system)  and take it upstairs to where it rightly belongs.  And voila, you’ve saved yourself a hundred little trips in an exhausting effort to keep the homestead neat and clean.  That’s a good one, too, courtesy of Jeanne Eimers.   Of course, this one also relies heavily on family participation.  I remember my mom trying to get us to use this system when I was growing up. Mostly in vain.  (And we only had a split level, so there was only a half flight to climb.)  So come to think of it, I don’t actually practice that one now that I’m a grown-up, even though I again live in a split level house.  (Weird, huh?  Are there that many of those around?  I don’t really even like them.)   

Steve thinking about all those steps

   But the lack of that system works out fine in our house, because my husband Steve loves to take as many steps as he can in a day.  I’m not kidding!  Very handy for keeping the house neat.  But I have to say, this little quirk is not so endearing when we’ve driven to the movies where there’s a giant parking lot and it’s 110 degrees out and he parks as far away as possible so he can get in all his steps…   OK, I’m digressing.  The point is, he loves making many, many trips up and down the stairs; as many as he possibly can, in fact.  So there’s really no need for this system in our lives.  Although now that I think of it, I do sort of have my own version of this system currently--for my own things that Steve wouldn’t know where they go.  I carefully place them on the ledge above the stairs, for the next trip downstairs.  And then, about a month or so later, I bring them down.  Well, no, really every two weeks, because I have to clean up before the cleaning lady gets here like clockwork, every two weeks.  (That is, unless we’ve canceled her for the week because we’ve been too busy to clean up for her.)  So they’re only really there for two weeks.  And it’s only a little tiny problem if there happen to be any bills due in that little pile.  Not that that’s ever happened to me, of course.

  So I’m good at creating and following systems, is the point.  It makes me happy and eliminates stress and inefficiency from my life.  And inefficiency is my enemy!  Steve, in addition to loving to take lots of steps, also loves inefficiency, if you can believe that.  I find it hard to.  And certainly hard to accept.  His driving habits are a prime example.  He simply does not see any value in the concept of getting somewhere in the most direct way available.  When we’re on our way somewhere in the car, I’ll often make a comment like, “Hmm, Steve, do you know where we’re going, or would you like a suggestion on how to get there?”  This type of inquiry is usually made after I notice that we’ve traveled 3 miles south when our destination lies oh, about 7 or 8 miles north, or when I happen to notice we’ve been circling the same block for quite a while now, despite the fact that we’re nowhere near our destination.  Steve’s typical response in these situations is, “Oh, I was just checking something out over here.”  Which is not true. On other occasions I might be heard to observe, “The speed limit is 65, just so you know.”  This type of comment might be prompted when we’re traveling along the freeway and cars--and I mean all the other cars on the freeway, even those pulling trailers and those with their flashing yellow “I’m having car trouble” lights on--are passing us at what looks, from inside our car, like the speed of light.  The response to this type of helpful hint is usually something like, “Oh, are you in a hurry?” As you can see, Steve does not see value in efficiency.  And these are just the driving examples; I could give a million more on many topics if asked.

   Oh, did I hear you ask?  Well, let me think, OK, got one.  On the weekends, he does not like to have to put forth any effort.  For anything.  It’s understandable, because he works himself to the bone all week long (at something he loves, I want to add, but nevertheless, he starts his day at about 5am and works until about 7pm.  No joke.)  So you can see why on the weekend, he wants to just relax and regain his energy.  This shows up in all sorts of little ways.  In fact, it shows that he, too, has a system or two of his own.  The first is, when dressing, he will grab whatever shirt happens to be closest to his hand.  Now with that little system, the winning shirt is not necessarily the neatest or most pristine or best looking.  Lucky for me, he does include “going to the movies” in the Relaxing category.  And often, as we’re about to leave the house and I glance up and get a glimpse of his outfit, if you will, there results another wise, always helpful observation from me.  “That shirt is kind of wrinkled.”  Steve:  “Oh, it’ll be fine.”  Me:  “Well, I don’t think it will.  It looks like it’s been crumpled up in a ball.”  When I play the “crumpled in a ball” card, he’s almost always willing to go find another shirt.  He’s very easygoing and cooperative.   Another time, that glance will prompt, “You know, corduroys—especially those heavy-duty wide-wale corduroys--are kind of a cold weather thing; it’s 110 out today.”  Steve:  “I’m fine.  I feel great.  I’m not hot.”   At this point, I become the cooperative one and let it go.  But I do then manage somehow to make it look like I’m not with him as we wait in line at the movies and even while he pays for our tickets.  It’s a trick I’ve cultivated over the many years of our relationship.  (This skill was honed in the early days when Steve would wear his huge, old gym shoes with his dress pants.  And not as a fashion statement; just because they were the "best walking shoes.")

  OK, but back to systems!  Other quick, easy to do systems that make me happy:  storing smaller suitcases inside bigger ones so they only take up as much room as the biggest one (the only flaw in this system is when you have to lift that suitcase filled with all those other, smaller ones…  This is yet another instance where Steve, or possibly your own husband, comes in handy); not bringing my purse or wallet or anything extraneous to the gym so I don’t need to waste time getting a locker or worrying whether my stuff will get stolen; keeping an extra driver’s license in my glove compartment in case I get pulled over on the way to the gym and get cited for not having any identification (in hindsight, maybe you should ignore the previous system); keeping each set of sheets and one of its pillowcases folded, then placed inside the other pillowcase, so all the pieces don’t get lost in the linen closet; keeping two laundry baskets next to the washing machine—one for colors, one for whites, so I save myself that very annoying step when I do the wash; unloading the grocery basket so that all the heavy stuff goes on the conveyer belt first, so that light things aren’t crushed by, say, the gallon of milk or giant bag of dog food barreling down to the end (the flaw here—can you see it coming?—is that the bagger, who obviously has not yet earned his Ph.D. in this particular skill, just bags them as they come, resulting in some bags being ve-e-ery heavy, and others light as can be.  Major flaw, actually.  And that always seems to happen when no one (Steve) is home to help me carry the bags in.  Note to self:  you may want to re-think this system.)

  I’ve got a million of ‘em.  These are just a few.  I may tell you more later.  And I'll be certain to tell you more about Steve's quirks, er, "systems."