What a tool

I recently repaired a dripping drainpipe under a bathroom sink. This is remarkable for several reasons:

1) I usually can’t fix anything.
2) Plumbing problems typically make me weep while reaching for the phone and the checkbook.
3) I actually sought, heeded and understood advice from the expert at the hardware store.
4) I didn’t make the problem worse, trying to fix it.
5) The job required no new tools. Or duct tape.

The leak was caused by a simple cracked washer. I replaced the beveled washer, put the drain back together and -- surprise! -- the leak stopped. Since the drain consists of plastic pipes, screwed together by hand, no tools were necessary.

It’s this last item that made the job most unusual. Household repairs generally require knowledge and/or use of tools. For those of us who are unhandy and/or idiots, this often is the sticking point.

Way down in the fine print of Murphy’s Laws, you’ll find this: No matter what household repair you attempt, it will require a specialized tool that you do not own.

We unhandy idiots react to this in different ways. We give up immediately and call a professional who owns the applicable tools and knows how to use them. Or, we try to force the issue, using the wrong tool, which often results in a much higher eventual repair bill. Or, we make yet another trip to the hardware store for the correct tool.

Having the right tool for the job doesn’t necessarily mean the repair will be a snap, of course. It’s still possible to make things much, much worse, particularly if running water is involved. Trust me. But with the proper tool, the home handyman has a fighting chance of success.

He also has a new tool. One that (and I’m pretty sure Murphy covers this somewhere, too) he will never, ever need again.

In this way, long-time homeowners accumulate a vast collection of esoteric tools. Not to mention fasteners and washers and assorted stray parts.

We keep them forever. Because you never know. We might one day need that socket/mallet/jigsaw/crowbar/drill bit/screw extender/stud finder/butt hinge/torque wrench/detonator. And wouldn’t we hate to make yet another trip to the hardware store?

Unless you’re one of those neat freaks who keeps all his tools “organized,” possessing these specialized tools means that every home repair becomes a museum tour through the garage. You go to fetch a simple hammer and find yourself, an hour later, pondering a reverse butterfly ratcheting nut-driver. You probably can’t remember how you use that gizmo. Probably can’t recall why you bought it in the first place. But there it is, among the tools, taking up space, in the way.

This phenomenon isn’t limited to tools, of course. Home offices also accumulate assorted widgets and electronics that seemed absolutely necessary at one time, but now are good only for paperweights.

Go take a look in your kitchen. If it’s like ours, it’s full of specialized choppers, strainers, scrapers, graters and gravy boats that rarely get dusted off. Not to mention foods and spices purchased for particular recipes, then rarely used again. How else to explain shelves overflowing with little jars of fennel seed, cumin and turmeric?

And let’s not even mention the medicine cabinet, crammed full of outdated pills, outmoded cosmetics and dried-out tubes of mystery ointment.

It’s enough to make me hit myself in the head in despair. If I could only find the hammer.

Conquering a mountain of stuff

Somewhere in your home -- spare bedroom, attic, basement, garage -- lives the Repository of Stuff We Don’t Use Anymore.

It’s a mystical place of letter sweaters and souvenir ashtrays, baby clothes and broken crockery, Magic Eight Balls and eight-track tapes, outgrown toys and outmoded phones and old jeans that’ll fit again after we drop 20 pounds (yeah, right).

Once in a blue moon, someone in your household will feel compelled to clean out this accumulated detritus. We could make better use of that space, the thinking goes, and we’ll never, ever need this stuff again. Why not get rid of it?

This is an admirable ambition, but, as with so many things, it’s easier said than done. Parting with your old stuff is a hard, dirty job that requires elbow grease and grit and resolve. Not to mention backache medication and frequent hot showers and, quite possibly, an expensive divorce.

At our house, the Repository of Unused Stuff was in our three-car garage. I don’t want to say how much dusty stuff we had piled up, but there was barely room for two vehicles. You do the math.

This heap of random stuff didn’t bother me. Sure, we’d moved it all a couple of times. Sure, some of the boxes weren’t even labeled. But I figured, as long as I could get my minivan door open and squeeze inside, everything was fine. The stuff wasn’t hurting anything. We’d sort it out eventually. Maybe a small fire would solve the problem for us …

My wife had other ideas. The stacks of sacks and boxes and assorted belongings bugged her. She’d put up with this stuff for years, and it was high time we did something about it.
Of course, she’s got no time herself. She’s busy having a career. So it fell to me to tackle the garage. She urged me to leap into action, in a sort of X-Treme Spring-Cleaning Challenge, and conquer Mt. Stuff with speed and muscle and brainpower.

I’m not a leap-into-action sort of guy. I’m more of a sit-and-ponder-and-sigh type. When I do finally take action, it’s almost imperceptible.

I oozed out into the garage and started opening boxes and sorting through sacks. I hauled off stuff. I threw some away. I gave a lot to charity. Gradually, the mound of stuff grew smaller.

The goal was to make that third garage useable. Our older son has a car now, and if we could lose enough stuff, he could park indoors. Not that he’s ever home. Not that we care if his filthy car sits out in the weather. But you’ve got to set goals to take on a job like this.

After I got rid of a lot of stuff, I ran into a true dilemma. What remained -- extra furniture, an old microwave, a portable TV -- would be perfect for a dorm room or a first apartment. If I kept it, with an eye toward my son moving out soon, then he couldn’t park in the garage. If I got rid of it, he’d have another excuse to never leave home.

So I took all that stuff and put it in his car.

Kidding! It wouldn’t fit in his car. And he wouldn’t take the hint anyway.

No, I’m still stacking and sorting and throwing stuff out. Slowly making progress. Someday, I’ll be finished. That old stuff will be out of our lives, once and for all.

Then it’ll be time to get some new stuff.

(Editor's note: After this column appeared, I found a way to stack all the future apartment furniture around the walls so our son could park in the garage. It's still there. He still hasn't moved out. Maybe I could just furnish the garage and he could live out there. . .)

Racing the clock

"Greetings, Agent Parent. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to finish a major work project, complete with Power Point presentation, while also driving kids to music lessons and the dog to the vet. Pick up dinner somewhere and have it on the table by the time your weary spouse gets home. Spend three hours overseeing homework, washing dishes and resolving disputes before falling into bed, exhausted. This Palm Pilot will self-destruct in 10 seconds."

(Cue theme music: "Dum-dum. Da-dum. Dum-dum. Da-dum. Dum-dum. Da-dum. Dum-dum. Da-dum. Tweedle-dee. Tweedle-dum. You're late!")

Modern life has become "Mission Impossible." Working parents can't make a move without synchronizing our watches -- or, at least, our calendars -- and most days are filled to the brim.

To meet all our daily appointments, we need organizational skills and coordination and communication. We share responsibilities with our "team," assembled for their special abilities -- spouse, coworkers, carpoolers, cleaning lady, yard guy, babysitter, travel agent, in-laws. We schedule everything down to the exact minute.

And still we find ourselves zooming through traffic at the last possible second, turning a routine trip to the orthodontist into an action-movie driving sequence.

(That maniac you saw in traffic today? The one who nearly mowed you down with a minivan while trying to simultaneously drive, talk on the phone and discipline children in the back seat? Five will get you 10 they were late for soccer practice.)

Most of us have demanding jobs, chock-full of appointments and sales meetings and other time-wasters, and we speed through them so we have time left to do actual work. Quitting time gets pushed back, later and later, until it sometimes seems simpler to set up a cot in the workplace.

Things don't settle down once we finally do shake free; just the opposite. Our children have too many activities, all of which require transportation, typically all the way across town. We need family time and exercise time and laundry time and a few hours' sleep and, please, oh, please, just a few minutes to collect ourselves. Because tomorrow we do it all over again.

Everything must go like clockwork. Throw in a dental appointment or a flat tire or a special homework project or -- gulp! -- an unexpected business trip, and it all goes kablooey. Work goes unfinished. Dinner is forgotten. Children are left waiting at curbs, collecting resentment they can reveal to their psychiatrists years from now.

Families coordinate these impossible missions in different ways. Some use a universal calendar, where everyone in the family gets to note appointments and events. Others do everything electronically, sending e-mails and instant messages with constant updates (this technique has the added benefit of allowing family members to avoid each other). Some skip planning altogether, rushing around willy-nilly, everybody late all the time, until the parents keel over with heart attacks and the children become wards of the state.

At our house, we use a combination of methods. A technophobe, I use an actual paper calendar, where I write cryptic little notes to keep track of everything. My wife tracks everything by computer. Once a week, we synchronize our calendars.

Is our system working? Let's put it this way: If you see my minivan hurtling through traffic, you might want to drive up onto the nearest sidewalk where it's safe. Because here's what playing on my car stereo: "Dum-dum. Da-dum…"

Another year, another beer

The start of a new year is the perfect time to organize your home office (or even your cubicle in a regular office).

It's time to discard old calendars, and replace them with shiny new ones filled with blank pages. Time to "strip" old files. Time to clean off your desk, down to the naked wood. Yes, it's truly a time of "out with the old and in with the nude."

Many workers let this opportunity slip by because they're too daunted by their messy offices to even attempt such a clean-up. These same people find themselves pawing through garbage bags in search of receipts on April 15.

How to tackle such a big job? It's a matter of sorting files and arranging folders and stacking up those unfinished projects you lost six months ago. Here's what you need to get started:

--Boxes. Use those left over from Christmas. They're probably in the garage.
--File folders. Get nice, new folders. They're cheap.
--Large envelopes. Ditto.
--Extra-large trash bags. Preferably clear ones. You may be hunting something in the bottom of one later.
--Stapler, paper clips, rubber bands, etc.
--Beer.

Assemble these items in your office, roll up your sleeves and get to work.

(If your office has a door that locks, you should lock yourself inside. This will prevent those inevitable interruptions and provide a barrier to distractions, such as the fridge and ESPN. Also, you don't want your family or co-workers to see you like this -- sweaty, frantic and confused.)

Label the boxes and envelopes in a way that makes sense to you. For example, you might have envelopes labeled "IRS" or "Receipts." You can label file folders by the names of your clients, or by date, or alphabetically. If you're in a home office, you might have extra folders labeled "Bills" or "Lost Stuff" or "Kids' Homework???"

Once you get everything labeled, you should brace yourself with several beers, because it's time to start sorting.

Begin with your desktop. Desks are junk magnets, and the top of your desk is buried in stuff you don't need. Yes, it is.

Go through these items and sort them into envelopes, boxes, trash bags, etc. A good rule of thumb: If you haven't referred to a piece of paper in six months, then it's time to throw it out.

If you don't recognize an item, then it's also a good candidate for the trash. It probably belongs to somebody else in your office/household, and tough luck to them.

As you put items away, the landfill level will lower and you'll unearth other items that you didn't even know were there, such as your phone. File these away, too. (Though you might want to keep the phone in plain sight.)

After you've cleaned off your desktop, pause to reconsider your sorting plan. Do you need other categories, such as "Overdue Work" or "Overdue Bills" or "Whoops!" or "Mystery Folders"? Create these new categories and make sure you have plenty of room in the existing envelopes/folders/boxes, because your desk drawers and file cabinets come next. Drink several more beers.

Go through each drawer, throwing out old papers and arranging ones you need to retain. Be merciless. Don't keep anything you don't absolutely need. Otherwise, you'll be looking at these same papers next year, and they'll make even less sense then.

Drink more beer.

By the time you're done, you should be drunk and sweaty and perhaps naked. But there's still one more job to do: Cart off the boxes and garbage bags. Put them in the garage or basement or other storage area.

Make sure it's someplace convenient because you'll be looking through them again. On April 15.

Group grope

Greetings, class. Today's lesson is on group dynamics.

No matter what your field, you'll sometimes find yourself in a group of people trying to accomplish something. Even those of us who work alone at home eventually must go reeling into the world to meet with employers or colleagues or creditors.

At those times, you need a working knowledge of group dynamics. Without it, you can make blunders and upset your fellow humans and risk embarrassment, financial ruin or, in extreme cases, a swift and painful death.

Group dynamics arise in all arenas, from the traditional business meeting to charity board proceedings to team sports to five guys leaning on shovels, staring at a pothole.

Group dynamics lie at the core of decision-making. Someone must lead and someone must follow. Agreements must be reached. Ideas must be hashed out, thrown out and resurrected. The wheel must be reinvented.

To understand group dynamics, let's first look at the roots. "Dynamics" comes from the Latin -- dynamo for "power" and ics for "in the hands of idiots." The larger term, group dynamics, was coined by psychobabblists as a way to address the behavior of the human herd.

As with herds in the animal kingdom, human behavior follows a pattern of dominance and submission. Most people, placed in a group, are submissive. They're called "listeners" or "followers" or "sheep." Others are assertive and demand to be heard. Depending upon the setting, these types are known as "leaders" or "alpha males" or "jerks."

No matter where you fall in that spectrum, it's vital that you remember some basic tenets of group dynamics, such as:

Density is Variable
Some people have quick minds. Others must mull and mumble to reach a decision. In dealing with groups, you must allow for variations in brain power and reaction speed and skull thickness. The same goes for driving in traffic.

Feelings, Nothing More than Feelings
Whether we like it or not, humans have emotions. They get their feelings hurt. They're quick to anger or slow to forgive. They let these emotions seep into the decision-making process, resulting in misunderstandings and grudges and wars. Parliamentary procedure was designed to remove emotion from decision-making, and that really steams some people.

Please Do Not Leave Baggage Unattended
Humans are not blank slates when they arrive in a group setting. They bring along their own histories and hang-ups and biases. You must allow for this baggage and work around it, or be prepared to shoot the person hauling it.

Everyone Wants to Sing Before the Fat Lady
It's a democratic ideal that everyone has a voice and everyone should have a say in decisions. Meetings often involve going around the table, giving everyone an opportunity to address each issue. Unfortunately, some people are in love with the sound of their own voices. These divas want to sing an aria when a few notes (or silent assent) would do. A strong leader knows when to cut off debate, even if it requires stuffing a sock in the diva's mouth.

Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven, But Nobody Wants to Die
People in groups tend to address the "big picture." They want to describe a "vision" for the future. But when it comes time to pass out the hands-on labor, they sit quietly, hoping that others will do the dirty work. "Vision" is great, but it won't fill that pothole.

Keep these rules of human interaction in mind the next time you enter a group setting. Allow for the feelings and egos of others. Work toward that common goal.

If all else fails, keep your shovel handy.

File under "H" for "Hopeless"

Every business needs a filing system, but efficient filing is particularly vital for those of us who work in home offices.

When you work at home, you must be able to retrieve information without a lot of wasted time and effort. Every minute counts. And, if you work alone, then you have no one else to blame when stuff goes missing.

A proper filing system not only keeps data handy, it also serves as a "track record" of your home-based business, from its optimistic launch to its eventual, unsurprising demise. Use file labels that are easy to change so you can chart the bathtub-drain geometry of this downward spiral.

The best way to keep your files organized is to utilize a simple alphabetical system. Here are some suggestions for labeling the folder tabs:

Assets -- Usually a very slim file.

Business Cards -- Collect these from everyone you meet while "networking." They make dandy toothpicks. "B" also stands for "Bankruptcy," but that comes later.

Computer -- Outdated manuals, voided warranties and backup disks kept in a folder stained with tears.

Debts -- This file can grow so large it needs its own drawer.

Expenses -- Everything the IRS might ever allow you to deduct, up to and including psychiatric treatment.

Financial Plan -- Typically an empty folder.

Goals -- Can also be labeled "Goose Chases." Or, "Grasping at Straws."

Health -- Leave extra room for medical bills, etc. This file tends to grow as stress increases.

Investments -- Or, "Idiotic Decisions."

Junk -- A catch-all, the last stop before the "round file."

Keepsakes -- Awards, letters from satisfied clients, mementos of the good times. Thumb through this file whenever you're severely depressed.

Leases -- Folder makes a giant sucking sound whenever it's opened.

Marketing Plan -- See "Wishful Thinking"

Newsletters -- These make good kindling.

Out of Date -- The letter "O" can also stand for "Overdue" or "Overly Optimistic."

Profits -- Hahahahaha.

Quacks -- See "Health."

Resumes -- It's smart to keep these handy and updated. You could be looking for a "real job" any minute now.

Supplies -- "S" could stand for "Successes" or "Satisfaction," but "Supplies" are a sure thing.

Taxes -- File should contain two business cards: One for accountant, one for bail bondsman.

Upcoming -- Not a reference to your lunch, but to pending events. Easy to change this one to "Useless" or "Unemployment Benefits."

Vehicle -- Leave room for a fat file because it will be a long time before you can replace your old beater.

Wishful Thinking -- Scratch out label and replace with "What Was I Thinking." Then "Wasted Life." Then "Whiskey."

"X" -- You never need this folder unless you go into xylophone sales, so it can be used as a place to hide overdue bills from your spouse.

Youth -- Also see "M" for "Misspent" or "L" for "Lost."

Zippo -- Contains the lighter you'll need to set your filing system ablaze.

You dropped your pocket

As warmer weather arrives, many of us find ourselves suffering a severe shortage of pockets.

We're very busy people. Mobile. We need pockets for all our stuff as we hurry from place to place. As the slow strip-tease of spring takes us toward the island-castaway summer outfit of swimsuit and tank top and sandals, we have fewer and fewer pockets to go around.

It's a sign of sophisticated simplicity to go around with free hands. If you're not lugging a briefcase and a laptop and a cell phone everywhere you go, it means you've made some good choices in life. You haven't become a slave to business and its machines.

But we all have our stuff. Money. Sunglasses. Certain necessities like car keys that we need handy, yet in a safe place where the dog can't swallow them. And for these items we need pockets.

I travel light, but as I write this, I have the following in my pockets: wallet, comb, keyring, loose change, grocery list, checks and deposit slip for pending trip to the bank, blank paper (in case inspiration strikes), pen and business cards. And that's while I'm sitting here at my desk, phone and coffee cup within easy reach. Imagine if I needed to go outside.

I used to carry a Swiss Army knife, so I always had ready access to a corkscrew. Now there's no room in my pockets for it, so I've had to resign from the Swiss Army. Better not to be packing a knife these days anyway. Never know when you might get patted down.

What about people who carry more stuff? They've got it hanging all over them. Key chains jingling on belts and pagers clipped onto pockets and cell phones holstered on their hips. We're all starting to look like cops, the tools of our trade weighing down our belts.

(I saw a guy in a coffee shop the other day. He had the usual battery of high-tech toys on his belt, threatening to "pants" him, plus he wore a telephone headset and talked loudly as he weaved between tables. I'm thinking: Yeah, yeah, we're all impressed by what an important little businessman you are. But we'd be more impressed if you were so successful, you could afford to take a leisurely, phone-free coffee break.)

Once you pass the dangle limit, you must graduate to a purse or a book bag or a briefcase or a backpack or a llama. And life's responsibilities begin to weigh you down.

A note: Avoid the "fanny pack." Any item that includes the word "fanny" in its name is a bad fashion choice.

Some people try to solve the overflow of stuff by adding pockets. That's how "cargo pants" were born. They're very popular with boys, especially if at least one of the pockets is big enough to hold a live frog. But these pants are not for us middle-aged men. The big side pockets tend to emphasize the hips, which call enough attention to themselves already. (See "fanny pack" above.)

Now that it's warm, we'll soon go around in our cargo SHORTS, with ever more stuff crammed into fewer pockets, bulging out so much it looks like we're wearing bustles.

Have you seen the TV commercial for the stealth trousers that have cargo pockets hidden inside the legs? In the ad, a woman peers through X-ray glasses and can see the male model's cell phone and pager and other junk all zippered away in there alongside his thighs. She's VERY impressed by this, which is surprising when you consider what else she might be espying through his pants. Maybe Mr. Headset in the coffee shop knows something I don't.

It's time for a solution to the pocket shortage. It's time for America's technological and business geniuses to get together and design something that fits all our needs so we can continue to race headlong through life unencumbered.

I suggest utility belts, like Batman wears. All our little tools of life encapsulated in one snug package, everything miniaturized and computerized and labeled with cool bat logos. Strap that baby on with your swimsuit and you're ready for summer.

If someone can figure a way to include a cup holder, we'll pay extra.

Spring has sprung

Now that we're officially in the throes of spring, it's time to take up spring cleaning, whether we like it or not.

Unshackled from winter's dreary confines, we throw open our window treatments to let in that warm spring sunshine and, for the first time in months, we notice our beloved homes are disgustingly filthy. The normal human reaction would be to close those drapes in a hurry, but most people instead gird up their loins and tackle the Big Cleanup.

Often overlooked in this process is the home office. The public areas of the house may get a thorough cleaning, but the average private workspace continues to have all the neatness and allure of a warthog wallow. Paper piled to the ceiling. Dust thick on every surface. Drawers crammed full of outdated documents and loose paperclips and last year's calendars.

No wonder we can't get any work done. An untidy office indicates a disorganized mind. And a mess eats up man-hours. How can we concentrate on setting priorities and accomplishing great things when we spend all of our time searching for lost invoices?

Extending the spring-cleaning frenzy to the home office means sorting through folders and emptying file cabinets and throwing out mountains of paper. It can be a daunting job if approached in your usual helter-skelter manner. That's how you got into this mess to start with.
To do spring cleaning in an organized way, break your office down into its component parts, then clean each one. Tackle them in this order:

THE DESK

The most important part of any home office, the desk often takes on the attributes of a landfill. Optimally, the top of your desk should hold only a computer, a phone and your calendar. Maybe a folder containing your current assignment and a cup full of pens that don't work. But that's it. Everything else on your desktop should be considered a distraction.

Spring cleaning is a good time to rid your desk of toys and stray garments and "Dilbert" cartoons. Strip it down to the bare essentials. All the folders and papers and Post-It reminders that currently litter your desk should be carefully filed away.

Desk drawers also should be cleaned. Empty them, vacuum out the dust and grime and fingernail clippings, then refile everything in an orderly fashion.

FILING CABINETS

Just as the automatic dishwasher mostly is a cabinet for hiding dirty dishes, file drawers are repositories for unfinished projects, out-of-date memos, gizmos that don't work anymore and other disappointments. A thorough cleaning requires that you go through each drawer, throwing out non-essentials and reorganizing what remains. Here's a good rule-of-thumb: If you haven't used an item for a year, it's probably safe to move it to a "dead" file. If you can't remember what the item was for to begin with, it should be discarded. If you're undecided, err toward elimination. When in doubt, throw it out.

When you're finished, you'll be amazed by how much space you suddenly have in your file cabinets. They'll become functioning work spaces rather than tombs full of disorganized data. They'll be helpful to you, rather than a source of secret guilt. And, they'll be ready to collect a whole new year's worth of office detritus.

COMPUTER MAINTENANCE

Don't overlook a "virtual" cleanup while you're at it. Spring is a good time to scan your hard drive for errors, defragment your disk and analyze your data files for items that can be erased, such as distracting space-alien games. Go into your browser and eliminate "cookies" and unused bookmarks and virus alerts and stale jokes.

You want to give your computer a complete physical. You want to make it turn its head and cough. When you're done, you'll find that the computer runs faster and crashes less often. You'll also find that you've erased important projects, but sacrifices must be made in the name of tidiness.

Sure, cleaning your home office is a big job, but it's one filled with its own rewards. When you're done, you'll feel organized, competent, ready to work. And you'll know exactly what became of those lost invoices -- they'll be in the trash with the rest of your important paperwork.