The Gift of Time

 Today's post is a crossover post, building on the one I posted on The Porch Swing Chronicles earlier today.

This morning, the unexpected happened. I came downstairs to check my computer before work only to discover that a power outage on campus had delayed the start of classes until at least 10 a.m. While I didn't yet know if that would affect my 11a.m., I still had a decision to make. 

And emails from three students already awaiting that decision.

My choice? I gave us all the day off. Sort of. I gave them an assignment, and I dug into my virtual pile of things to be graded.

The plan? Work all morning and write all afternoon. 

That was almost three hours ago. As I write this, I’m halfway through my plan. Actually I’m sitting in line at the Starbucks drive-through, awaiting my turn to pick up my BOGO Thurs-yay drinks. 

A day off and double the caffeine.

From here, I’ll go home, finish grading a set of quizzes, post this blog, and dig into the writing that has consistently gotten drop-kicked to the bottom of my to do list. 

If someone gave you an unexpected day off, how would you spend it? Would you organize a cluttered space? Tackle a long-neglected task? Truly take the day for yourself?

The gift of time is a beautiful thing -- one we often wish for and rarely receive. Yet, in our desire to be responsible, we sometimes use up that gift, rather than savoring it for the wonder that it is. And, when we do savor it, we sometimes feel guilty for “wasting” time or “not being productive,” forgetting that taking care of ourselves is perhaps the most productive thing we can do.

The gift of time is one of the loveliest things we can receive. Personally, I plan to make the most of every minute.

Let it Go?

This post from pandemic days reminded me that, sometimes, hanging on to things "just because" can be a good thing. 

True Confession #26: Sometimes, it pays to be a packrat.

On Monday night, (day 41 of self-imposed exile, for those of you keeping score at home), I pulled the lid off my signature scent (a fancy way of saying my only bottle of perfume) and the nozzle came off with it. Securely wedged inside the lid, it wouldn't budge, leaving me with a nearly full bottle and no way to spray it. It was late, so I went to bed, saddened at the thought of wasting all of that perfume.

The next morning, I got up and took another look. Nope -- no miracles. Still inextricably wedged inside. I twisted the little strip of gold that remained at the top of the perfume bottle and the spray mechanism came loose.

Okay, good. I wouldn't have to waste the perfume. But where was I going to pour it? My mom used to have one of those vanity trays with the glass bottles for various fragrances, but those were long gone.

Wait.

I pulled open the top drawer of my dresser and there it was.

The old bottle.

There was only whisper of liquid left, but the most important part remained. I quickly pulled off the lid (gently this time), unscrewed the spray mechanism and, I'm embarrassed to say, got ready to pour.

Yeah, there was an easier way. I swapped the mechanisms and returned the old bottle to the drawer, exceedingly happy about a very simple thing.

When I saved that bottle, I had no really good reason. A faint aroma still lingered, so I tucked it in my dresser drawer as a sort of glass sachet.

Yeah. No good reason to keep it and pretty much every professional organizer on the planet would tell me to toss it. But I kept it because I wanted to and now I'm really glad I did.

Sometimes, we save things for a good reason. Other times, we just want to. We can't keep everything we've ever owned but, despite the fact that something borrowed should always be returned, something old doesn't always need to end up in the trash. (When it comes to something blue, I'll let you decide).

Has an all-but-empty perfume bottle led me to contradict Let it Go! (The L in STYLE)? Quite the opposite, actually. Let it Go! has always been about letting go of things on your own terms. If something has meaning or use and you have room for it, keep it. If its time has passed or it's not worth the space it will take up, perhaps it is time for it to exit your home, whether via donation, yard sale or -- dare I say it? -- the trash.

Now that I think of it, I'm not sure why I tucked that old bottle back in the drawer. Habit, I guess. Perhaps it's time to go back upstairs and apply my own rules. Its usefulness has passed (it consists of a non-working mechanism atop an all-but-empty bottle of perfume) and, if no further fragrance lingers, there's really no reason to keep it. And getting rid of something old makes way for something new or, perhaps even better, yields clear space.

But that's another post.

The More Things Change....

 One of the things I like best about organizing by STYLE is its flexibility. Don't like binders? Try an accordion folder. Not a fan of the file cabinet? Use individual standing files. Have a tendency to cram and jam or put things in a "safe place"? Choose storage that supports what you do naturally -- flexible and/or see-through containers -- instead of "shoulding" yourself into using a traditional tool that frustrates you.

Another benefit of the flexibility of this method is that it automatically lends itself to change. No matter how perfect the system, it needs to be dynamic in order to meet changing demands, uses and time constraints.

Case in point: my school stuff. Each semester, I have things to sort, store and carry back and forth. Old faithful tools -- my planner, which doubles as a lesson plan book, my pencil case loaded with writing implements and office supplies, my pocket folder that houses reference materials for each class -- form the foundation. From there, I add tweaks and tools to fill any gaps that arise.

A few semesters ago, I added a clipboard to my arsenal of supplies. It came in handy during the first few weeks of class, providing a place to house rosters and seating charts as I learned my students' names, and then I set it aside. This semester, the clipboard has earned its keep, playing a role in my attendance-taking, thanks to a new online system. In addition, I added a single sheet of paper to my clipboard, one that summarizes my schedule and appointments for the week. It's amazing what a big difference that small change has made in bridging the gap between my school schedule and my home schedule. One piece of paper has combined my to-do lists, and appointments for two parts of my life, uniting two separate pieces of the same puzzle.

Finding a tool that works is wonderful. Finding one that will grow with the demands and changes of daily life is even better. While it's tempting to wish for a permanent solution to our organizational needs, finding ways to adapt and adjust not only refines our systems, but our overall organizational skills as well. And, since a stagnant life would be a boring life, we might just have to adjust to the one true rule of organization.

It's a process.