Anyone who has tried to endure a Midwest winter in a pair of Converse All Stars will tell you that it is a fool’s endeavor. The canvas upper does nothing to keep out the cold and wet, and frankly, neither do the soles.
So this is the year that I say finally say goodbye to a steadfast pair of shoes. They’ve carried me on many adventures, pushed strollers many miles, and even attempted to dance a fair number of times.
It’s actually not the first time I’ve said this. I’ve worn them on vacation the last two years in a row, assuming the Florida beaches and lovely warm water from the gulf would transform them into something unwearable upon my return. There are more holes in the uppers than I can recall, and the soles have worn through in that way only Chuck Taylor’s can do. They keep hanging on. It is time to do the honorable thing, and let them retire.
On the insoles of each of these shoes are some song lyrics, carelessly tattooed in black sharpie as a means of distraction during an art history review session years ago. “One brick today is one less for tomorrow.”
I often find myself making real life comparisons to the computer game series The Sims. I’m sure this is because the game is well designed and thoroughly researched, and not because I have trouble separating fantasy and reality. In the game, various human needs (hunger, energy, hygiene, social interaction) are represented by little status meters. The status meters feed into an overall mood meter, and the player is rewarded for keeping these meters in a satisfactory zone. A character will be distressed by some need going unattended for too long or by an unpleasant external influence, and the player needs to remedy this in whatever way they see fit. Tending to the need briefly improves the overall mood immensely, even if the problem is not completely resolved. Like having a snack to take the appease a grumbling tummy.
I’ve tried to apply this mindset to my domestic duties, implementing new strategies such as “If You pick it up, You put it where it belongs, no matter where it was when You found it”. (This is a rule I intuitively want to enforce with my children in conjecture with fascinating bits of litter, but rationally struggle with commanding them to embrace festering things.) Mostly this is successful, but sometimes this approach means I have to completely reassess my way of thinking.
For example, my default approach to any task is this: observe, classify, sort, do whatever needs to be done, reassess. This approach has served me well for many years, even though I often spend more time making lists than actually doing things. Then I had children. Doing laundry for a family of four means that I am often interrupted in my process before reaching the end. Which leaves me with piles of terribly organized laundry and a job that is not, ultimately, anywhere closer to being finished.
After thinking a bit about my shoes, the Sims and procrastination in general, I apply a modifed version of my new general to my laundry. No sorting allowed! Well, a minimal amount of sorting is allowed to placate my personal neurosis and hard held beliefs on efficiency: socks and linens may be separated, but nothing else.* If I pick up a shirt from the basket, I put it down where it belongs.
It mostly works. Sometimes I get so distracted by putting away what I have picked up that I neglect to finish the bigger task that was my goal. Sometimes I have a basket full of all of the socks in our house waiting to be paired and put away. It isn’t flawless, but it is an improvement. One shirt today is one less for tomorrow!
*(I would like you, dear reader, to appreciate that laundry strategy could fill its own entry, but I am sparing you from that fate out of the kindness of my heart)
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