A senior moment…

I had one of those “moments” a couple of days ago, I was filling in my expenses and wondering why I don’t do a better job of preparing my recipts when I’m traveling with work. It passed eventually, but it was there for a long moment. I decided that I was ready once again to start acting like a proper mature, adult. Yeah I have “responsibilities” and I go to work every day, can act like a professional and think I do an OK job there.

However in the rest of life it’s not so simple. I’d like to get into the habit of doing adult things and be responsible. Don/t get me wrong, I may be in my 40’s, but I’m not going to take it too far. I’m not going to rush out and buy a pair of slippers or wander around the stores looking at cardigans and banning natural fibers from my wardrobe.

I mean stuff like emptying the dryer when it’s finished and putting away my clothes. Today I do rather use the dryer as my clean clothes hamper.  In my defense here I do own some stuff that needs dry cleaning (a baby step to my adult goal, even if it does take up laundry hamper space for a month or two before I actually get around to taking it), but other stuff tends to stay in the dryer until I need it, or there is another load to go in there.

When a “mature moment” strikes I pull out a pad of Post-its and start making lists. In reality I’m not a big list maker,

About the only time in real life I religiously make lists is when I’m working on the car. I’ll make big checklist, and tape it to the windscreen to refer to when I’m working on it, but that’s typically about it. I’ve lived with a very OCD list maker, and I’ve seen where lists can end. It can all get rather stair-counting nutty.

I have become disciplined about somethings, I’m good at clearing out my e-mail inbox, paying all my bills (and others bills I’ve been paying) on time.

To rush to my defense once more, I still have a convertible in the garage to go alongside my boring practical car. And have made exhaustive lists when taking on some big repair jobs that required significant concentration and precision. This concentration seems to rather leave me at other times, although I find grocery shopping without a list and impulse buying to be a far more interesting experience when thinking abou preparing dinner a couple of nights later

At the moment I am trying to decide what cool colour I’d like my convertable painted when I finish with the body work. Current choices are either McLaren orange with blue stripe, or British racing green with a classic white stripe… Decisions, decisions…

Back to the subject in hand. A few times a year, I spontaneously decide that I’m ready to be a real adult and become organized at work and at home. I start using my planner at work as it’s designed rather than an expensive note pad. I’m not sure what drives these moments of madness, it always ends terribly for me.  But I do it anyway.

Schedules are drafted, bills are filed, planners filled in, e-mail is read, spam filters created and today I actually read a cookbook and make lists for the grocery store.

I prepare for my new life as an adult in the same way Mormons prepare for the second coming. With a level of rather nauseating self-congratulation and thoroughness.

I think I know how this is going to go, for the first day or two of my plans usually goes okay. At work, my planner lists my meetings, what time they start and even what room they are in (an achievement others may be envious of). I start to feel all-superior, then sooner or later (OK, sooner) it goes pear shaped.

After a couple of days I open the fridge and am almost surprised by the pile of food in there. Then I realize can’t remember what the new recipe was that I wanted to stretch myself with this particular exotic vegetable that’s going brown around the edges.

For a few days I am Mr. Organized and feeling all smug about my new found ability to actually have the number to dial into a conference call in hand. After a few days of this madness is that I completely wear myself out. I may slack off for a little, figure that the documentary about the sub-Saharan salt trade is more important then emptying the dishwasher, and there is no way to recover as I start procrastinating.

The procrastination leads to feeling guilty about the procrastination and next thing I know I’m back to sitting on the sofa wearing a Bart Simpson “underachiever and proud” t-shirt, because that was all that was clean and in the wardrobe this morning…