In five minutes or less

I read years ago in one of those fluff magazines I indulge in every now and then a piece of advice that has enhanced my life on a tiny scale.  You know how much I like to pass along a good idea, so here’s what I learned.  The premise was we’re all inundated with tiny irritants, so small they’re hardly worth mentioning, yet—combined—they zap of us good energy.  Anything from a persistent hangnail to a purse so jammed with receipts and old gum wrappers you can’t find a pen when you need it.  Kind of how you feel when you’re dying to get your hair cut.  There’s a tipping point, it’s subtly been driving you nuts for days, but at some point it begins to take up more of your mind than you’re comfortable allocating to something so dumb.  You have it on your mental list to call and make the appointment or clean the computer screen of finger prints when you have some time to spare.  You’ll eventually get a handle on all those little jobs you keep putting off.  But this unassuming article challenged its readers to face these annoyances head-on simply because each one takes less time than you think and it settles you in a small way.  At least that’s proven to be my experience since reading it maybe 10 or 15 years ago.

I’ve also noticed, as minuscule as the irritant may be, if I can just write it down it has like an 83% higher chance of happening than if I just think about it.  Just jotting down “oven,” for instance, has prompted me to switch it from the “need to do that someday” box to the “try to get to that this week” one even if it’s probably subconsciously.  And I’m surprised myself when I notice I actually did get around to it.

My sweaters on the top shelf had been hiding out in a haphazard stack for the past few weeks.  Not a huge aggravation by any stretch, but because I know how this principle has worked for me in the past, just the other day as I was getting ready I felt myself investing I bet three minutes total and refolding them (I don’t own that many sweaters, maybe 15); I tucked them into three short stacks and I noticeably sighed.  It was that easy.  This past week I purged the three purses I’d been hopping between: a checkbook was in one, my wallet in another, gum and pens in another.  Who lives like that?  So weird.  Finally got my act and purses together, it took a good four minutes to make a final home: gum wrappers out, lipstick in.  Receipts filed, hand sanitizer refilled.  I usually clean my purse out at stop lights, same with the van: collect the trash, corral the pens and crate the kids’ books.  I also finally took an old washcloth and everything out of my middle drawer on my side of the bathroom to assess what was happening.  Wiped it out and once again, no more than four minutes of work I bet.  I own five contact cases; I wear one pair of contacts.  Good grief.  I sometimes wear eye shadow on Sundays, but one had busted all over, sprinkling the remaining articles with a fine layer of shimmery dust.  I had a small trial sized tube of heat-treatment cream for a pedicure.  One guess how often I give myself pedicures.  The tube looked like it was from my mom’s bottom drawer from yesteryear.  Anyway, another investment of less than 5 minutes and I’ve given myself a mini treat the rest of the week every time I go to take my pills or file my nails.  A little smile, a little boost.

I know this is a silly thing to write a post about, but I’m only telling you this because I think we get bogged down by all the things that we notice but never really get around to.  We’re aware that the microwave’s got melted butter on its tray, the oven has burnt cheese from the pizza, the silverware holder is full of crumbs, the towels on the bed need to be folded.  It can get you down.  But don’t let it. Tell yourself you’ve got five minutes.  And you do.  Think of all the ways you’ve wasted your five minutes today.  I’m amazed at how much mileage I can get from such a small investment.  Since I’ve got a sink of hot, soapy water anyway, it’s easy to put my sponge in the microwave, heat it up as all the stuff soaks off, then I just wipe it down.  Like 2 minutes.  Another night with my sink of water I’ll dump all the contents of the drawers out on a towel and wash out the trays my serving utensils were in.  I’ll turn on the self-cleaning oven cycle on when I wake up and can wipe it out before I leave, replace the tin foil on its floor, and the oven is clean in under five minutes.  Finding the clippers to take care of that hangnail relieves us of the gnawing feeling of needing to get to that.  Taking the sheets off a bed takes about one minute, putting them back on takes maybe three.  We love Fridays partly for fresh-smelling sheets after a long week in a short but sweet five minutes or less.

So much about the world can weigh on us, remind us of everything we aren’t doing or need to do.  But in tiny, incremental ways we can stay with it and refresh our lives.  And you know I wouldn’t give you a lesson like this without giving you a lesson like this: if investing five minutes to clear off the computer desk can make you feel that good, think what else you can do with five minutes.  Call a friend who lives alone while you’re putting dinner together.  Drop off a treat to an old friend on your way to town.  Text someone while you’re at a predictably long intersection just to tell her what a great job she did with the decorations the other night.  Bring one of your loaves of bread that you now know how to make to someone for a surprise.  Open a door for someone with a smile.  Invite someone to join your family for the evening (you’re making dinner anyway).  There are all sorts of lists for things like this; I’ve even seen books.  But I hope in the five minutes or less it took you to read this you will feel empowered to tackle not only your cuticles and closets, but also to use your creativity to find small and simple ways to brighten the lives of others as well.