funny

So the intrinsically sensible Frugal Scholar responds to yesterday’s rant from Funny about the constant deluge of paper that pours into the house, despite a diversion dam between the mailbox and the front door that directs much of it straight to the recycling bin. She suggests a personal organizer might be helpful.

Yes. I’ve thought of that. We do, however, have my innate laziness to contend with. This characteristic makes it possible for me to ignore personal organizing systems, blithely and with ease.

But something must be done.

Once I finally got caught up (except for reconciling all those bank accounts) and desk was shoveled off and — now that its surface was visible — dusted, I considered what I could do to keep the mess of my life more or less under control.

As a practical matter, the organizational device that has always worked best for me is The List. Listing goes a long way toward making me remember the things that need to be done in a given day, and also there’s a little carrot effect in the pleasure of marking stuff off. What if I had some kind of “list on steroids,” whereby not only would all the to-do’s be listed, they would be listed by “zones” of the day in which to accomplish them — morning, midday, and evening.

So far, this is working OK, except that by evening I’m so tired I usually don’t get much done.

Last night, for example, I was just too whipped to focus on writing a blog post. Or much of anything else, either. Managed to write a few sentences of the present scene in Book II of the Fire-Rider series, enough to jump-start another line or two this morning…gosh, that’s going slow!

So all the things that didn’t get done yesterday — such as writing this post — take time away from things that I need to do today:

Oh, boring boring boring BOOOORING! How much more would I rather spend the whoooole day writing this stuff…

Don′O, a man almost as hefty as Bova but who carried his size less in muscle and more in fat, greeted the newcomer with a handshake and a bluffly cheerful welcome.

“How’s your day going, Old Snow-Killer?” he asked.

“Good,” Bova replied, without elaboration. “It looks like there’s some water at the bottom of the hill,” he said. “Leastwise, that’s according to one of the drovers Lhored sent forward to check it out. I’m headed back to let my monja know and start rounding up our boys.”

“That’s good to hear,” said Kay. Done with his work on Nando, he stuffed the unused bandage strips into a green sack and handed it over to Tavio, who went off to load it on Mist, their ill-tempered pack pony. “You’d better run along back up to Devey’s bunch,” he said to Nando, who thanked him and then headed up the line at a trot.

Don′O, at Bova’s news, decided it was time to alert Moor Lek’s bands, and also those of Kay’s deceased mayre, Robin of O′a, among the heroes dead on the field at Loma Alda. He went off to find Robin’s monja to let him know of the supposed water supply and then to start wrangling his own men.

Jag Bova fell in with Kay for awhile, knowing there was no great hurry to tell the Rozebek band that they would soon arrive at the night’s campsite. Kay was content to have him around. He enjoyed the big blond man’s company and respected his deeply traditional rural decency. [WAIT WHAT? REALLY? SERIOUSLY?????]

“I think I’m gonna belt the next guy who calls me ‘Snow-Killer,’” Bova grumbled.

Kay glanced at him, not altogether surprised. “Why?” he asked.

“Sick of listening to it.”

They walked together in silence for a few minutes, Kay uninclined to comment. The sun was sinking toward the western horizon, the air cooling and growing quieter as the bands dropped toward the desert floor and toward evening. A quail crowed its odd, bright call from somewhere in the brush. Kay heard a thrasher’s melodic trill, and he noticed a pair of small scavenging bluebirds following hopefully alongside the marching men.

“Doesn’t it get on your nerves, them calling you ‘Fire-Rider’ every time you turn around?”

“Not especially,” Kay said. “They don’t mean any harm.”

Bova sighed. “I know,” he said.

“They’ll forget about it pretty soon—whenever something else comes up for them to think about.”

“Mm-hm. I suppose,” Bova replied. “But I’d sure like to put that business behind me. Don’t need to be reminded of it twenty times a day.”

“Well. It’s the wages of fame, y’know.”

“Sure.”

The sun settled closer to the mountains at their backs. The sky began to take on the dusky blues and pinks of sunset. From a bluff behind them, a canyon wren sounded its wild cliff-diving tremolo: CHEE-WEE–wee wee-wee-wee. A turkey vulture rode a column of cold air above the desert floor.

“I’m having a hard time getting that stuff out of my mind,” Bova resumed.

“It wasn’t very pleasant,” Kay replied, in exquisite understatement.

Bova spat on the ground.

And? AND? AND???? THEN WHAT???

I can’t wait to find out, and I don’t want to wait until late tonight or sometime tomorrow to dream up Bova’s answer! Argh!

…or possibly of procrastination…

Soooo much paper comes pouring into this house, most of it generated by financial institutions and by Medicare, that the steady torrent of the stuff quickly floods the desktop. Shovel off the desk one day, and a day later you’re working in layers again.

I hate paper. I don’t like dealing with it. Don’t like dealing with it because I know any given “deal with” is not just one transaction. It’s a whole series of tasks:

• Rip it out of the envelope; toss envelope.
• Figure out what it is.
• If important, stack to the right of the computer.
• If something that needs to be dealt with sooner, not later, stack to the left of computer.

• Pay bills. This entails firing up computer, finding passwords, logging into credit union website, hassling with dates on bank account (they only let you see 10 days’ worth; wanna view more transactions, you have to point-click-point-click-point-point-click to get it to display longer periods), logging into bill pay, finding the creditor or creating a new creditor, entering data, entering data, pointing and clicking again).
• Mark statements with paid date & deliver payment date
• File statements.
• Enter data in Quickbooks.
• Check for solvency.

• Find investment tracking spreadsheet.
• Enter changes in investment value; this entails sifting through three elaborate statements.
• Check formulae for calculating net worth; observe current net worth.
• Estimate likely solvency for remainder of this year and coming years.

• Reconcile personal credit union accounts (two).
• Check that automatic bill pays happened.
• Reconcile S-corp credit union accounts (two).
• Reconcile joint credit union accounts (two).
• Check that automatic deposit to joint account happened.
• Enter data in Quickbooks.
• Check for solvency.
• File statements.

• Reconcile personal credit card accounts (two).
• Pay personal credit card accounts (two).
• Enter data in Quickbooks.
• Check for solvency.
• File statements.

• Try to figure out  meaning of incomprehensible Medicare statements.
• Don’t even bother to try to figure out how these apply to doctors’ bills.
• File incomprehensible Medicare statements.

• Shuffle through SBA paperwork.
• Try to remember what I was supposed to do with it.
• Do that, if possible.
• File SBA paper.

• Find old to-do list.
• Note vast number of things not done.
• Give up; throw it out.

• Find old printout of client’s publisher’s style guidelines.
• Throw it out.

• Find old printouts of other client’s copy.
• Realize I should be working on the current copy instead of cleaning off desk.
• Throw it out.

• Find accountant’s tax questionnaire, which was never filled in.
• Throw it out.

• Find paperwork re: 25 grand invested in old insurance policy.
• Flummoxed; don’t know what to do with it.
• Toss it back on the desk.

• Find unopened Christmas card.
• Throw it out.

• Find stacks of material from current client.
• Make hanging file.Make file folders.
• File stacks of material from current client.

• Find paperwasting stacks of boilerplate announcements from community college.
• Throw it all out.

• Find user’s guide and warranty for Shark steam mop.
• File with user’s guides and warranties.

• Find notes from online tutorial.
• Have no idea what to do with that.
• Give up; throw it back on the desk.

• Find today’s to-do list.
• Realize I’m supposed to be doing bookkeeping, not shoveling desk.
• Realize that after that I’m supposed to work on client’s project, not shovel desk.

• Find designer’s print-out of e-book introduction.
• Can’t remember what he thought I would do with it.
• Throw it out.

• Find designer’s rant on e-book cover design.
• Remember he thinks I’ll go to all those websites and study.
• Toss it back on the desk

• Find two stacks of new business cards.
• Realize they’re on the desk because there’s no room in the drawer for them.
• Wonder what to do with them.
• Give up: toss them back on the desk.

A few days ago, I realize no bill has arrived. I resolve to watch and wait.

Day before yesterday I think, that’s odd. No bill? I’ll call the insurance broker when I think of it.

Along about 10:00 last night, I start pre-organizing the piles of paper so as to expedite the misery planned for today. A-n-n-n-d…

In amongst the stacks and stacks of incomprehensible notices from Medicare, Medigap, and Part D, what do I find but the bills for the three policies — mailed, nacherly, under separate cover, so as to consume the maximum amount of paper, the maximum amount of ink, the maximum amount of glue, and the maximum postage.

Rip open the three more envelopes and find the premiums were due on the 22nd. And it being about 11 p.m., April 22 is effectively over. And fear I, presumably I am effectively uninsured.

So that was upsetting. Kept me awake until after 2 in the morning, at which time a weird scrabbling noise occurred somewhere in the front part of the house, throwing Cassie into a screaming roaring growling FRENZY and scarying the ess aitch ai out of me. Dust settles around 2:30. Pup is up at 5:30.

Call insurance company at 6:30 a.m.; get accounts receivable. Learn they have a grace period, thank God. Pay bill(s) with American Express, racking up some more points toward next year’s kickback.

My son has left his 90-pound dog here whilst he makes a four-day trip to celebrate his grandmother’s 100th birthday. Fortunately, the hound is very mellow. SO mellow, indeed, that Pup is already bossing him around. Incredibly, she stole a chew-stick from him. Like stealing an antelope leg from a wolf…she doesn’t seem to care that these bigger dogs have fangs. She is totally, utterly unafraid.