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By Marshall Jones
Fly on the Web
I went looking for an old key the other day. It was for a padlock to something important I hadn’t used in some time.
I had a vague recollection of it being in a junk drawer somewhere, placed deliberately at some point to ensure it would never be lost. Right. I went through the drawer and found all manner of pens, pencils, a screwdriver, scrap paper, notes, notices, phone numbers and grocery lists.
But no key.
I tried another junk drawer. More pens and pencils, some leavings from a do-it-yourself builder kit, some old candles and other evidence of a birthday party quickly cleaned with a swipe into this drawer. Little toys were discovered like treasure for kids. But no key.
I found a little carrying case I sometimes keep this stuff in, emptied it out and found a bunch of cords for old, dead cell phones, cameras and seldom used computer pieces.
Nope.
I went to an old dresser and found that every single drawer was filled with, well, junk. I forgot about the key for a moment and walked around, noting all the places that junk had been allowed to accumulate and propagate.
That’s how it occurred to me how busy we have been. I always knew, of course, but seeing it this way was different. How can things get this cluttered when people are hardly ever here, you wonder. And if you wonder, you find answers.
It’s because when time is a scarce resource, you seem to have room only for a simple inbox and outbox, never the more complicated and realistic compartments where life’s things ought to be stored, ought to be tended to on a more regular occasion.
I shared my brilliant observation with my wife, who nodded and crossed her arms.
“Ever notice,” I asked. “How having no time means having even less time? These things just creep up around you.”
We’ve talked about this before, the economics of life and times, I said. Maintenance and regular attention is like earning compound interest on your bank account. Saving sanity instead of saving money. Shirking that stuff means you’re making interest payments and wind up paying double. The junk is a consequence.
She put her hands on her hips.
“How did we let it get this way?” I asked. “It’s gonna take a week just to sort through it all.”
She crossed her arms again.
“Better get to work,” she said. “Lots of things need some attention around here. Where do you want to start?”
“Well, first thing’s first. Let’s see if we can get a babysitter and go out tonight. We can leave this stuff for tomorrow.”
“I thought you were looking for a key or something,” she said.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “I just remembered where it was.”
marshall@kelowna.com
