It’s 7 a.m. Do you know where your toothbrush is?
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If you do, and you can also find your phone charger, put your hands on a clean towel, and have all you need at hand to make a cup of coffee, be grateful.
For the last 48 hours, I’ve had none of this.
Every time I move — and if you’ll excuse me, I am going to pause here for a moment of prayer: Dear God, Let this be the last time I move for a while because this is taking years off my life and I would like to meet my unborn grandchildren some day, and I have plans and places I would like to visit in one piece, and, besides, moving is hard as heck on my fingernails and makes me pop Advil like jelly beans, which can’t be good — I remember the importance of patterns.
Patterns matter. They are the tracks that ground your days, the rudders that keep you on the roiling sea of life. All your patterns get destroyed when you take every one of your earthly possessions and put them all at once in a new place.
Moving, as I have done this past week for the fourth time in three years, defines disruption. And it’s why I am staring into space, trying with the mental might of Stephen Hawking to remember where in the universe my favorite pillow is.
I do not thrive in chaos. Anyone who says he does is lying.
The hardest part of moving isn’t physical, though the packing, loading, unloading and unpacking is exhausting, to be sure. The hardest part is mental, making thousands of small interconnected decisions in short order about where to put, well, everything. Because where you put stuff when you set up house dictates your routine in a way that will either help you move through your day efficiently, or not.
When all is in place, you can swiftly get dressed, put on mascara, feed the dog, pay a bill, check Facebook, scramble an egg, floss, set the table, and recycle the newspaper on autopilot. Thus, you can devote more brain space to bigger issues like how to land that big client or contemplate the future of Obamacare.
Moving tosses a hand grenade in all that.
Now the benefit of moving, which I am trying hard to stay focused on otherwise I will go sit on the curb by the garbage cans and swill straight shots of whiskey, is that you inadvertently find better ways to do things. Given a fourth chance, you have epiphanies: Oh, why not store the can opener by the canned goods!
Whether you’re moving (my sympathies) or well established and settled in your home (congratulations), carefully consider or reconsider each of your acts of daily living, and see if you can streamline them even more. A few thoughtful changes can payoff in more time, more brain space, and, quite possibly, a longer life. Here are some patterns to look at:
You get the idea. Living well is a lot less about where you live, and far more about how you live. Now if I could just find my pillow.
Syndicated columnist and speaker Marni Jameson is the author of “House of Havoc” and “The House Always Wins” (Da Capo Press). Contact her through marnijameson.com.