Our neighbor Jonathan came by yesterday afternoon to pick up the drill we had borrowed. It was his first time in the place since the early weeks of our residency. He looked around and congratulated us on all the progress we had made. He seemed to have meant it, which confused me, because all I see when I look around our house is the enormous pile of things left to do.
We had grand plans when we bought the place. We couldn’t stop thinking of ways to make use of every room, especially if those ways involved tearing down walls or entering some other realm of home improvement. Nevermind that we’d never plastered anything in our life or barely knew how to spell
wanescotting wainscotting—everything was possible in our imaginitive little homeowning heads.
The first project of some scope—painting—went off like planned. We set ourselves a large mountain to climb there, but I think the months of anticipation fueled our stamina in those early days, and allowed us to get it done pretty much without error. Since then, however, our abition has
wained waned, forcing us to forgo other large projects (e.g. re-lighting every room) for smaller, more manageable tasks, like cleaning the schmutz off of the stove.
It’s the mounting sum of all these micro-tasks that cause me worry. I know this is a common problem—Sarah’s even discussed it here—so as a new year’s resolution I resolved to come up with a method of handling them. I proposed my first idea last night: a whiteboard where we write down all the little things we have to do, and a promise to ourselves that we try to tackle one every free night we have at home. Sounds doable, right? That’s what I’m hoping.
My hope is that in addition to providing a mechanism for Getting Stuff Done, it’ll also make us feel less overwhelmed. It’s hard, sometimes, to see the trees for the forest, when the big picture is so huge and dense. We’re going to try to take it one tree at a time.