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| I made this (after I tossed my first attempt). |
Tonight, this memory crossed my mind as I reluctantly took my own "left turn". My gut argued for it, while my mind's software calculated a way around it. In a rare moment, I sided with the former. Tomorrow, as I am rushing around my house, crossing off my to-do list, I will appreciate it most. But, even now, I am grateful.
Before I explain this decision, I need to provide some background. My eldest daughter's sweet sixteen is a week from this Saturday. About five days ago, I settled on a decoration scheme. At the heart of the plan are the centerpieces, comprised of large, glowing lanterns. What can I say, I have a thing for lanterns (and lighthouses which are not appropriate for this party). Besides providing a visual anchor, they will also produce light. Yes, buying them was an option, but I needed at least ten, and wanted twelve (typical of me when planning things). The price started adding up. However, I desired another feature from these props. I want to keep them for other events, like Christmas, and maybe Halloween. Also, I am willing to loan them out to family and friend. Keeping these lanterns means storing them. That brings me to another pet peeve of mine.
All my decorations must store neatly and nicely; large ones must breakdown easily. Therefore, my lanterns, all ten... err... twelve of them have to come apart with little effort, and sit flat in a box.
The only way to achieve this property was to design and construct them myself.
For the past three days, that is what I did. It took an Amazon delivery, a trip to the Five Below store, followed by a stop at Staples, and two prototypes to arrive at the one in the above photo. It is even more impressive in person (the brown parchment paper has a texture that does not show up well in the picture).
Yes, it still needs a knob on the top, and a better design for the "glass" part (tape is holding up the paper--I developed a system to allow those pieces to be replaced with little effort, as the event warrants). Yet, the most important feature works perfectly: the lantern consists of three removable parts, that store away neatly. The tops and bottoms stack; the sides fold out and lay flat; the light is independent of everything else. Okay, when moving the lantern, one must hold it from the bottom (the three parts do not interlock with each other, though they do provide structural support which produces stiffness). But that was not a requirement for me.
Anyway, what does any of this have to do with tonight's "left turn"? You see, as typically happens when I create things that are just a portion of a bigger project, I become elated with my accomplishment. The greater my achievement, the more joy I feel. Unfortunately, between the energy expanded to build it, and the steep fall after my creativity high, I am exhausted. And hangover becomes a drag on the rest of the project. In this case, the other decorations.
(That list does not include making the other eleven lanterns. Remember, the one in the photo is the second prototype.)
So, tonight, while sitting in the parking lot, waiting for my youngest daughter to finish her two hours of dancing, I began to panic. The party is in eight days. I have one lantern, albeit a beautiful, perfect one. Since I had time on my hands, I began to think harder on the other decorations. They needed to be simpler than my expectations. Fortunately, after a bit of research, and daydreaming, I found viable solutions. My body began to relax, especially my gut. But not my mind. No, it started calculating. The party was not my only responsibility. Cleaning the house, getting my car fixed, the yard, the garage, Thanksgiving dinner (my brain likes to stretch beyond the present in order to pile it on). Well, I learned a trick from a book that I read about getting things done (that may be the actual title--I will look it up after I finish typing this post)(UPDATE: It is called Getting Things Done by David Allen).
When you feel overwhelmed by tasks and time, sit down, and write out all the steps required to achieve the goal. In my case, that meant writing out tomorrow's to-do list. With twenty percent left on my phone's battery, I entered the information, adding time frames. Well, my list was doable, but very tight. Looking at it made me slightly sick, but having it spelled out calmed me down. With an hour and fifteen minutes of dance still left, I decided to do something productive. Getting out of the car, I stepped into the cool, calm night air, and began walking around the parking lot. Because my phone was dying, listening to podcasts was not an option. That ended up helping the situation.
With each trip around the parking lot (each circuit measures a fifth of a mile), tomorrow's dense agenda sloshed around in my head. One section dragged down all the rest. A trip to the craft store. a forty-minute round trip to be exact. Not including the twenty minutes or more wandering around and waiting in line (the lines always suck for me at this particular craft retailer). Ninety minutes of my day doing something I hate. Shopping (especially when there is a long, winding drive involved). Who am I kidding? Add another thirty minutes (fifteen to get ready to leave; fifteen to unpack when I return).
That there was my "left turn". And it kept tumbling around my mind as I meandered about that dimly lit parking lot.
Yet, a strange thought made its way to my frontal lobe. The dance studio is located near a major shopping center. In that center is another craft store. With an hour still left (I had been walking for about fifteen minutes), there was plenty of time to make the run, and be back to pick up my daughter, with plenty to spare. Tomorrow's two-hour errand for craft supplies (because my estimates for completing something always come up short) would be replaced by tonight's one-hour excursion. My gut leapt for joy.
My brain, however, refused to let go. It pointed out that tonight's drive, while shorter, was still painful. The shopping center required driving down a series of hectic, busy roads. And the parking lot! Good, God, a nightmare (poorly designed parking lots are another pet peeve of mine--this place ranks on my top ten list of the worst). Also, this craft store focuses on fabric. It may not have all the items on my list. Why bother making two trips, when you can wait until tomorrow, and do just one? It is dark, you are hungry, and the exercise is good for you. Keep walking. Anyway, "Left Turns" are inefficient.
But my gut, like the UPS man, realized that this "left turn" was necessary. It would pay dividends in the long run. Come tomorrow, I would be a happier person.
As I wrapped up the first mile around that desolate parking lot, beginning a second round of walking, my brain proud that I was exercising, my feet suddenly stopped. My pelvis twisted. The momentum forced the rest of the body to turn, including my head. Then I crossed over to my car (well, my wife's car--mine is in the shop, and has been for some time). Unlocked it and got in. Turned it on. Texted my daughter that I would be back before she was done (she is the kind of child who would get nervous seeing me drive away). Locked my seat belt in place. And drove off.
About halfway to the store, my brain suddenly realized what was going on. Too late. My gut had won.
That was until I arrived at the store, spent about ten minutes looking for the stuff on my list, finding only two out of the five items. My brain laughed. My gut said "fuck off". I continued looking.
And found everything on my list.
I made it back to my daughter's studio with fifteen minutes to spare.
To sooth my brain's ego, I spent that time walking around the parking lot.
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| My first attempt and its final resting place. |
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