|I have another half dozen pairs around the house!|
This is a picture from my office; the latest attempt at bringing order to chaos, and a wry comment on my writing life. When I posted the image on our family WhatsApp my son replied, 'how long until the hooks are empty?' For someone who has a reputation for diligence, my absent-mindedness is legendary.
She has two pairs of specs that are always at hand; it's much the same with her keys or handbag. But then, if I ask her to make a bank transfer or phone for an appointment, there's a high probability I'll be reminding her a few days later, and quite possibly the day after and the day after that... In the grist of everyday life, Jane's a 'do it when it's necessary' person, whereas I'm a 'tick it off, so it's sorted' kind of guy.
No doubt the best course lies somewhere in between. For whatever 'it' may be, addressing matters early is seldom as critical as I tend to think. On the other hand, to diminish advance planning or view absent-mindedness as equivalent to ill-discipline would be equal mistakes.
I tell myself that my habit of losing my glasses stems from thinking of bigger and more important concerns. Jane's view is that I should get off my high horse and pay more attention to where I jettison my stuff. Again, the truth—and the best way—is at neither extreme.
And so we compromise, making the most of our respective virtues. You might say we are stronger together, working as a team... oh, I could so easily fill this paragraph with management clichés. For indeed, there is some accuracy in them, as there is in all stereotypes. The important thing is to realise that it's not the whole or only truth.
But enough of this philosophising, it was only a humorous photo and a little glimpse into my world. Someday I might show you my new 'tin shed'. It was designed by my son—the one who queried how long before the hooks are empty. And now I think about it, we worked together on it too; his design and my project management skills, not forgetting a little trust on each side.
The end result is the best office I've ever had. To write here is a joy, most days with Oscar curled on the seat by my desk. Meanwhile, the hooks on my filing cabinet remind me that like their magnets to the metal, my eyes to my glasses, Jane to me and vice versa... we all need each other to get along.