Simply a Matter of Organization

            “Multi-tasking” is a dirty word.   Once I had a traffic accident while trying to drive and converse at the same time.  It seems my keys are always missing, names often slip my mind, and I’ve driven straight to Wal-mart when that wasn’t my destination – twice!  My mother kindly calls these “Senior Moments".  How can that be!  I’m only forty-one!

My husband, on the other hand, thinks it’s simply a matter of organization and focus.  “Quit being so scattered,” he admonishes, “and put things back where they go. That way you’ll know exactly where they are.”  Yeah, right! Sounds good in theory, but reality is another matter altogether.

Where my keys go just isn’t a priority upon entering the house carrying groceries greeted by the sound of a ringing phone and a dog whining to go out. They’ll lie wherever they land.  After the phone is answered and the dog is cared for, the mound of groceries cluttering the floor, table, and counter tops begs to be put away before someone (namely me) trips breaking part of their anatomy. Tomato sauce, mac and cheese, and cereal go into the pantry.  Eggs, milk, and sliced cheese have a place in the fridge.  The new bottle of laundry detergent goes to the utility room.  Oh, look, there’s DH’s missing sock on the floor.  Smells clean. After starting a load of clothes the recovered sock goes back to the bedroom.  No sooner is the sock drawer closed than, “MOM!” punctuates the air.  Apparently there is a conflict brewing between two of my children. When that’s handled I grab the hairbrush I spot lying by the computer and return it to the bathroom where I notice pink stuff growing in the bottom of the toothbrush cup.  Out come the toothbrushes. I trip over groceries still lying on the kitchen floor on my way to get a clean cup, so I continue putting things away.  

            It takes a good forty-five minutes, but finally the clothes are washed, the children (and dog) are happy, and there’s no more pink slime cohabitating with our toothbrushes, but my keys are nowhere to be seen.  Who cares?  I don’t need them now anyway.

All this totally exasperates my husband who mobilizes the family to clean the entire house in the time it takes me to decide which room to begin in.  He can talk on the phone, surf the net, and eat supper at the same time.  I admire his organizational skills, but, quite frankly, sometimes they get on my nerves.

After twenty-one years of marriage I’ve finally figured out why my husband and I are so different.  It has to do with the way we think – the way we process the many facets of our lives.  His life is a big room with every aspect of it stacked neatly against the walls.  No matter where he is in the room he can see and manage everything effortlessly.  My life, on the other hand, is a house with many rooms.  Each project I’m working on, each subject I teach my children, each responsibility at church and at home, each relationship, etc., has it’s own separate place.  I can only be in one room at a time.  This works fine as long as only a few rooms need attention.  However, when deadlines pile up, responsibilities increase, or one “room” is in crisis, I just stand in the hallway blubbering, “I don’t know what to do.” And, of course, little gets done.

I think this disorganization thing is hereditary.  The other day my husband lovingly said, “You’re getting to be more like your father….I can see why your mother gets so aggravated with him.” 

I recently shared my “room” analogy with my parents as we sat around their kitchen table.  A light bulb went on in Dad’s eyes, “Yes! Yes!  That’s exactly how I am!” He exclaimed, proud to be finally understood. 

“Disorganization is not of God,” my husband replied with a wink towards me.

Mom, never one to miss a good come back, retorted, “Yes, but remember what Jesus said, ‘In my Father’s house are many rooms.’”[1]

We laughed.  Go Mom!

            (I just hope they don’t require keys.)

© Drewe Llyn Jeffcoat 2005