Striving For The Illusion Of Control

My friend Whitney came for a visit last weekend. She lives in Kansas, and I appreciate her willingness to schlep out to Ohio to see me. She and I met in culinary school in New York City – she was 18 and away from home for the first time and I was already in my twenties, so I adopted her as a sort of baby sister and we’ve been close ever since. Whitney is tiny and well-read and possessed of a bone-dry sense of humor, and her visit was a much-needed breath of fresh air from fretting alternately about work and my upcoming move. We ate nice dinners and drank bottle after bottle of white wine and laughed a lot, and I took her out to Blossom Music Center to hear the Cleveland Orchestra. She watched the puppy for me so I could catch up on some chores uninterrupted, and we took adorable photos of little Hugo dressed in humiliating costumes. It was as nice and restful a staycation as I could’ve asked for.

This puppy thinks of nothing but murder all day.

  I did a little fretting at her about all the tasks both big and small I need to complete before I move (T minus five weeks and five days, not that anyone’s counting). She nodded and looked sympathetic for a socially appropriate length of time before gently suggesting that it might be more useful to actually write down the tasks and make a schedule, rather than lie on the couch and whine about them.

Whitney was so right. Rather than worry about how little time I had, I resolved to start using my worry-time to work. After I dropped her off at the airport last Monday (to what turned out to be a hellishly delayed flight – sorry, Whitney) I sat down and compiled a massive to-do list that stretched over two sheets of notebook paper. I sorted the tasks by size and urgency, and created a week-by-week schedule for myself. I was a little apprehensive that such a massive list would leave me feeling overwhelmed and directionless, but it actually makes me feel calmer and much more in control.

I started with a small, manageable series of tasks. Anyone who cooks seriously will understand when I say I have a relationship with my knives, so that seemed as good a place as any to start. I sorted through my kitchen gear to pick the essentials, and gave each piece a thorough cleaning and sharpened my knives. I packed all the tools up in my sleek new knife roll and stowed that with my luggage. I was absolutely giddy when I got to cross those items off my to-do list. I can’t wait to finish another job so I can strike that off the list, too. If I get any peppier about this process, I’ll need to give myself a stern talking-to to restore my natural levels of cynicism and torpor.

I’m totally not worried. On the schedule for this weekend, I’ve assigned myself cleaning off my desk and cleaning out my closet, and that is a guaranteed pep-killer. It’s going to be my own little episode of Hoarders, although without any pressed-to-death housepets.  I think.  I hope.