How to steal moments from time-consuming chores
Published 3/14/06
I am vexed by the amount of our hours that we must invest in the daily drudgery of humdrum chores. I’m talking about chores like cooking meals, unloading the dishwasher, making the bed, washing and drying clothes, ironing those clothes once they’re dry, folding them neatly away, shampooing the pets, and don’t even get me started on those time-killing frequent pilgrimages to the grocery.
To me, this is lost time when I could be contemplating the nature of the universe or watching “Dog, the Bounty Hunter.”
So, when I waved my wife off to a far country a week ago, I thought it was the perfect time for a two-week household experiment. In this experiment, which I am actually doing for the guys of the globe, I am asking the question: If a man wants to minimize his time behind the mop, how now shall he live?
I began my experiment the morning after my wife left. That’s when I was confronted by a messy bed and pillows hanging from the ceiling fan. Is it really necessary to make the bed when you’re going to climb back in it a few hours anyway? What if you didn’t unmake the bed to begin with? I found that I can sleep on top of the bed and save myself the half hour it takes each morning to square up the mattresses, seek out socks that create the lumps under the end of the bedspread, tuck in the sheets and make the bed tour-of-homes ready. This week, I’m ahead of the game when I get out of bed.
Brilliant!
The next thing I typically do in the morning is unload the dishwasher, fix breakfast, dirty up some dishes and begin re-loading the dishwasher. But in my experiment, I have found that I can cut back on dirty dishes by pulling up a chair to the range, use it as a table, and eat my eggs and French toast out of the pans that fried them. Then it’s just a matter of putting the dishes back in the dishwasher and, more or less, using the dishwasher as a cabinet. Try this at home and you’ve saved nearly an hour—unless you happen to lay the morning paper on a hot burner in which case you have a fire to put out and a whole kitchen to remodel. Okay one hour forward, five hours backward.
Think of how much time we use just to keep our clothes in job- interview condition. But this week I am discovering the time saved by streamlining the process. Is there any logic to carrying an armload of towels, socks and underwear to their respective drawers when you can keep them in your dresser-dryer?
Ironing is a perennial problem, the worst time consumer. Because it’s such a mind-numbing task and because, to some people, watching the big game looks like a waste of time, I usually save up shirts throughout the year and then iron them while I watch the Super Bowl. In fact, I saved up my 2005 ironing so I could watch the Colts in the Super Bowl. It didn’t happen and neither did the ironing. There’s always the NCAA finals.
Every time I turn around, I’m emptying the cat’s litter box, cleaning the box and then refilling it again—as the sands of time slowly slip away. But the other day I came up with the idea of filling the upstairs bath tub, which we seldom use anyway, with 50 bags of litter. I won’t have to think about that chore for a couple of months—as long as I keep the bathroom door closed.
And every night I lose time and sleep when I take the Yorkie out on pee patrol. But this week, I’ve run a leash from the bed post to the Yorkie’s collar and left the bedroom window open (hey, it’s been warm). At his slightest whimper, I can set him on the window ledge so he can take it from there. If necessary, I can pull the little guy back into the house without even getting out of bed. In just moments, he’s back in the sack—well, we’re on top of the sack, actually—and we’re both fast asleep.
In my experiment, as in life, precious stolen moments are what it’s all about.
I am vexed by the amount of our hours that we must invest in the daily drudgery of humdrum chores. I’m talking about chores like cooking meals, unloading the dishwasher, making the bed, washing and drying clothes, ironing those clothes once they’re dry, folding them neatly away, shampooing the pets, and don’t even get me started on those time-killing frequent pilgrimages to the grocery.
To me, this is lost time when I could be contemplating the nature of the universe or watching “Dog, the Bounty Hunter.”
So, when I waved my wife off to a far country a week ago, I thought it was the perfect time for a two-week household experiment. In this experiment, which I am actually doing for the guys of the globe, I am asking the question: If a man wants to minimize his time behind the mop, how now shall he live?
I began my experiment the morning after my wife left. That’s when I was confronted by a messy bed and pillows hanging from the ceiling fan. Is it really necessary to make the bed when you’re going to climb back in it a few hours anyway? What if you didn’t unmake the bed to begin with? I found that I can sleep on top of the bed and save myself the half hour it takes each morning to square up the mattresses, seek out socks that create the lumps under the end of the bedspread, tuck in the sheets and make the bed tour-of-homes ready. This week, I’m ahead of the game when I get out of bed.
Brilliant!
The next thing I typically do in the morning is unload the dishwasher, fix breakfast, dirty up some dishes and begin re-loading the dishwasher. But in my experiment, I have found that I can cut back on dirty dishes by pulling up a chair to the range, use it as a table, and eat my eggs and French toast out of the pans that fried them. Then it’s just a matter of putting the dishes back in the dishwasher and, more or less, using the dishwasher as a cabinet. Try this at home and you’ve saved nearly an hour—unless you happen to lay the morning paper on a hot burner in which case you have a fire to put out and a whole kitchen to remodel. Okay one hour forward, five hours backward.
Think of how much time we use just to keep our clothes in job- interview condition. But this week I am discovering the time saved by streamlining the process. Is there any logic to carrying an armload of towels, socks and underwear to their respective drawers when you can keep them in your dresser-dryer?
Ironing is a perennial problem, the worst time consumer. Because it’s such a mind-numbing task and because, to some people, watching the big game looks like a waste of time, I usually save up shirts throughout the year and then iron them while I watch the Super Bowl. In fact, I saved up my 2005 ironing so I could watch the Colts in the Super Bowl. It didn’t happen and neither did the ironing. There’s always the NCAA finals.
Every time I turn around, I’m emptying the cat’s litter box, cleaning the box and then refilling it again—as the sands of time slowly slip away. But the other day I came up with the idea of filling the upstairs bath tub, which we seldom use anyway, with 50 bags of litter. I won’t have to think about that chore for a couple of months—as long as I keep the bathroom door closed.
And every night I lose time and sleep when I take the Yorkie out on pee patrol. But this week, I’ve run a leash from the bed post to the Yorkie’s collar and left the bedroom window open (hey, it’s been warm). At his slightest whimper, I can set him on the window ledge so he can take it from there. If necessary, I can pull the little guy back into the house without even getting out of bed. In just moments, he’s back in the sack—well, we’re on top of the sack, actually—and we’re both fast asleep.
In my experiment, as in life, precious stolen moments are what it’s all about.
posted by Jack W. Williams | 4:08 PM
1 Comments:
This interesting!
Post a Comment
<< Home