One of the advantages to aging is that I'm getting to know myself better over time. In the last few years I've realized that I like things well planned. I don't think I used to be that way: in the past I was happy to let life happen. There was never a catastrophic event, and I hope I'm still too young for a mid-life crisis, but somewhere along the way I started to understand that the clock is ticking and it will run out sooner or later. Planning maximizes efficiency.
When the weekend approaches, I don't have to have everything mapped specifically, but things do go much nicer when I have an explicit list of things to do. I know my mother has always been a list keeper, so I've probably gotten the organization bug from her. Recently Jean's been kind enough to post a list of maintenance tasks on the refrigerator because she understands that a) I like to have a list so I can plan things and b) I have no idea what needs doing in the first place (I'm blind to the general home maintenance needs). The list works well: she adds things and I try to work on a first in first out basis. I don't mind doing all these things that don't matter to me in the slightest, I just need a nudge to know that they're there to be done.
One of the things I've learned is that it takes me exactly one hour to be ready for work. It's a comfortable hour, but then I've never felt that life should be rushed, just organized. I can be ready in less than an hour, in fact I can be ready quickly on those mornings when I realize I've slept late and only have thirty minutes before I have to be in the office. It's just those mornings are always rougher than mornings should be. I've explained to Jean that I need an hour, and she pretty much accepts that, but this morning we had problems.
It wasn't quite a fight. We had one of those when we were dating back in college, and it lasted a year (more on that some other day). But we don't have fights really ever -- I know that doesn't sound credible, but it is true -- so today is just about as close as we get.
Jean has been trying to get into work an hour early as often as possible for the past few weeks. She's not quite crazy about her job, but she's determined to give it everything she feels it takes to do it well. Her effort to excel has been compromised more and more over the past 27 weeks as baby has taken up more of her time (in all the splendid ways babies-to-be can do that). With commitments two or three nights a week (like our birthing classes), she's found that getting in early is her only chance to stay on top of the pile that is her desk.
To further complicate things we're trying to go to work in just one car each morning. Her car (a beloved 1987 Buick Skyhawk) has only so many more miles in it, and with baby on the way we'd prefer to steer clear of a new car purchase, at least as long as we're still paying off my 1997 Saturn.
So last night Jean told me that she wanted to leave for work by 7:30 this morning. I told her that was great, so long as I was out of bed no later than 6:30 (you can see it coming, can't you?). The alarm went off this morning at 5:50 (we like to listen to The Writer's Almanac on our local public radio station, and it only plays then). Unfortunately I didn't wake up. Maybe I heard a poem by Robert Frost, but I'm not really sure. The next alarm sounded at 6:00, and I'm pretty sure Jean stirred around then. She started talking to me at some point but in the end we didn't get up until 6:40. She reminded me that she wanted to leave at 7:30 and I told her it was going to be an hour before I was ready to go. Period.
I decided I would try to accommodate her by getting ready as quickly as possible. I got up, fed the dogs and started the coffee. While I was in the shower Jean called to me. She didn't know I was in the shower, but my dogs had gone outside to bark at the dog next door. She had been trying unsuccessfully to get the dogs back inside, but couldn't go out to get them. She was angry because we really don't mean to be pests to our neighbors, but we were failing again. I finally managed to get them both in, but became frustrated in the process that the morning was spiraling out of control. If I had stuck to my schedule, the dogs would probably have not been loose outside, but I was trying to hurry up this morning. Jean mentioned again that we needed to be out by 7:30 and I told her that we should probably go back to driving separately, and drive her car "into the ground" because a joint morning commute was clearly not going to work. She slammed the bathroom door, and we were officially in funk mode.
So far I think we're pretty similar to most folks. Sometimes two views of the world collide. What's different is that after about ten minutes of huffing around the house avoiding each other I huffed into the kitchen to see that she'd poured my coffee and made most of my lunch while cooking herself some breakfast. Jean has a gracious heart, and she simply decided she didn't want to start our day the way it was going. So she put the brakes on her plans to go in early so we could take more than my necessary hour to reset ourselves and our day. We sat down, had a leisurely breakfast, and went to work happy with each other. I'm especially proud that she has the strength of character to cut through something like this much quicker than I can.
I'm still as stubborn and as organizing as I've ever been, but I think I'm going to try to be
a bit more like Jean next time, and find a way to make it work.
There wasn't a cloud in the sky today. The air was crisp and the sky was that perfect blue you only see a few days of the year. While the rain earlier in the week dropped most of the leaves to the ground, there are still trees here and there that are pure shades of yellow and orange.
I walked home again tonight. The sun had set, but the moon hadn't come up yet. As I crossed
the bridge the dark blue sky faded towards the where the sun had set until just above
the treetops it was a dark rusty red.
Listening: Harbor Lights (Bruce Hornsby), Crash (DMB), The Flying Lumber Incident (Help Wanted),
Ten (Pearl Jam).
Reading: (Nothing tonight -- company's coming this weekend and tonight's a cleaning night).
© 1998 Kevin J.T. Creamer