Order

Not being a naturally organized person, I have had to learn. This is probably a skill best learned, because the naturally organized are, from what I have seen, less flexible in their ability to change order. I work with nurses who have to do everything just their way, and no other, who cannot give a rational reason for their requirement. Their job is how they do their job, not why.

Basic was my first real exposure to extreme order. Before, an approximation was adequate, even exemplary. Then the earth tipped, and perfect became an exact science. Uniformity. All buttons (and there were many of the damned things) had to always be buttoned. The locker held uniforms neatly on hangers, all buttoned (again) and all facing the same way, hangers 2" apart. The class folder was held in the left hand, the right was empty, while marching. Hat came off as soon as coming in a door. A few examples among a worldfull.

Nursing required a more systematic approach to life than I had ever tried before, and the OR even more. Scrubbing necessitates a high level, done safely. Without that clarity of set-up on a sterile field, sharps get lost and dangerous, sterility is compromised, other scrubs come to hate you with a dark, passive-aggressive fury. At least I know I came to hate scrubs who hid items, when I had to relieve them for lunch. It always takes a minute to adjust to another's set-up, and the surgery continues unabated, and instruments need to be passed without too much interruption. Giving breaks becomes a specific kind of skill. When the scrub has a muddled table, murderous thoughts multiply. Worse, to have set-up beautifully, then have my lunch relief re-make it into a mess. How THEY work that way is beyond me, and they often have pissed off surgeons. (It's a bad sign when my surgeon not only acknowledges my return, but is overtly grateful.)

It's less immediately obvious with the circulating nurse role. Easier to pick up in the middle, more fixable issues, though it may involve having to run more, perhaps down the long hall to roll the microscope (a large, heavy, many elbowed object, with wonky wheels and a devil-may-care attitude) into a tiny room. That said, there is reasoning behind my paranoid checking that we have everything.

I am lazy.

It is enlightened laziness. I care deeply about the results of my organization. I would much rather have everything ready, do everything quickly, then sit. Partly because I like being able to rest, or watch the surgery, if there is a view to be had. Partly, because if something goes wrong, I want a head start. This spills over into our many moves. It's not because I have to have everything in order, I just don't want to lose too much. And I want to sit on the couch, sleep on the bed, without having to move boxes for too long. A week after the last one, a friend came by, and commented that we looked very settled in. D says,

"Once everything was out of boxes, they seemed to just put themselves away." I stared at him in amused incredulity, and with the clear expectation of a rethinking of his statement. He caught it, looked at me, rather abashed, and recanted,

"I meant... I didn't mean... ~You~ know."

I still laugh about that one.

So, how do I keep doing it? Without losing my mind along with my pens? I go by principles, like putting the tea supplies where I can most easily reach them when I am barely awake at five AM. Not hiding anything. Prioritizing the most irreplaceable. Being willing to always just buy a new pen.

Been thinking of trying to channel my Aunt Evelyn who was a natural organizer. She may be wringing her spectral hands right now, wanting to clean my kitchen. I figure, my work surface is clean. That'll do for now.