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Here’s a joke you might have heard before.

How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb?

Just one.  But the light bulb has to want to change.

I have a problem that’s bothered me for more than twenty years.  My desk is always cluttered. I’ve made enough excuses about this to last a lifetime.

“I know where everything, or almost everything is,” I tell myself, although years ago I found a check for a rather large amount hiding on my desk.  It had been buried there for months.

“That’s just me,” I rationalize. “Lots of people have messy desks.”  True, and lots of us do things we really want to do better.  Excuses don’t improve the situation.

“I’m busy working.  Tidying up every day would take time away from my work.”  Right.  And not having everything in an organized place, takes up a lot more of my time.

So I’m giving myself a two-week challenge. I have until November 21, 2017, to neaten up my workspace.  I’m attaching to this blog a photo of how my desk looks today, and I’ll attach another photo two weeks from now to document my progress.

If I succeed, perhaps you will be inspired to make a change in your life and we will both benefit from my efforts. Accordingly, I challenge you to the following:

1. Pick one aspect of your life that you want to change. Pick just one, not two, not many.  I certainly would like to neaten up my desk at home, and also everything on my bathroom counter.  But I’m more likely to succeed when I aim to change one thing at a time.
2. Take full responsibility for the change. Don’t blame the clock, “I don’t have enough time.”  Don’t blame someone else, “Neatening up my desk is something that (fill in the blank) should do.”    I created the clutter.  I am the one who has to remove it.
3. Set a specific time limit. I don’t know about you, but I always work to deadlines.  No deadline, no work.  I was amazed when a friend of mine in class turned in a term project three weeks early.  That’s not me.  The pressure of a deadline helps me to focus.  Give yourself a specific deadline.
4. Make a public announcement, at least to a few of your friends or coworkers. You don’t have to email or write a blog that could be seen by thousands, but you do have to make a public commitment that will stick.
5. Resist the temptation to start your list of excuses a few minutes after you make the public commitment. “I have a busy two weeks coming up.”  ‘I need help, and I don’t know anyone who can help me.”  And that sturdy standby, “Just joking.  April Fools!”    No excuses.  Just the fear of possible failure combined with the potential joy of accomplishment.

Next photo to follow in two weeks.

Thanks for your help in pushing me to actually complete the one change I want to make, even if your help is only inside my own mind.  I think it will be effective.  We’ll see.

Alan

I was watching Saturday afternoon football on TV, and wondering what I would write my next blog about when I received the following email.

Alan,
The buyers have agreed and signed our counter offer. I will open escrow on Monday and be in touch with you, Congratulations!
Bill O.

I thought, “Great!”  But at the same time I felt hollow.

The house I have for sale is located across from the Mission Ranch on Dolores Street in Carmel, California. I was introduced to the quaint, seaside town of Carmel more than fifty years ago by one of my very best friends, John.  The house on Dolores is the first one I ever built. It’s surrounded by cypress trees and beauty. It’s where my family and I celebrated Christmas with friends for more than thirty years. But last year I spent Christmas on a Caribbean cruise – the tradition of Christmas in Carmel finished because of my divorce, and, partly, my own declining interest.

On reading the email that the house in Carmel might be finally sold, I initially thought “Great!” And then I felt hollow.  That’s the way it often is – my mind goes one way, my heart goes another.

The “Great” was from my head and completely justified.  Over the past twenty years, other than for those few days during Christmas, I had seldom visited the house.  Once I showed up in July without giving anyone notice.  The house was a mess.  The caretaker had assumed I would never arrive unexpectedly, and I found the sheets and towels from Christmas still piled on the floor in front of the washing machine.  But by then even Christmas in Carmel had lost its zest, even if the spaghetti sauce I prepared each year for thirty or forty guests had not.

Also, I had blocked the CPA part of my mind from telling the rest of me that the Dolores house was costing me tens of thousands of dollars a day for only five or six days a year of actual use.  Mortgages and property taxes don’t care about Christmas.

“Great!” my mind now said.  “You won’t have to take care of that house any longer.  No more new roofs, no gardener, no painting.  And I won’t have to replace the thirty-five year old carpet (still the original).  Selling Dolores will be a blessing!”

But at the same time there was a hollow place inside me where all the good memories still live. I spent many wonderful hours in that house: playing pinochle until dawn with my father brother, enjoying my young children as they tore off wrapping paper to find their gifts, feeling the warmth of a crackling pine fire during many chilly winter nights.

I hold on to people, and to places.  I simply don’t like to let anything go.

But, hopefully, my Carmel home away from home will soon be owned, probably remodeled, by another family who will bring to it their own dreams, experience in it their own joys, and create their own sweet memories.

As the American Indians use to say, we don’t really own anything.  We only get to use it for a while.

Alan

As I began driving to work this morning I had a random thought.  “This is going to be a bad day.”

Whoops!

How did that saboteur enter my brain?  When I walk into my office would I ever say to a coworker, “Good morning!  This is going to be a bad day”?

Of course not.  I seem to only send that kind of negative message to myself.

It has been said, “As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.”  Should I allow the twig of my thoughts to grow into the tree of a really bad day?

I assume that you are thinking, “No.  Of course not.  Have positive thoughts, Alan, so that you‘ll have a great day.”

And you’re right.  I agree with you.  So as I drove to work I thought of everything I was looking forward to throughout my day.  Frankly, at the top of my list was lunch.

At my desk, partly to avoid actual work, I thought about another statement that almost all of us use often, and this phrase is one of my pet peeves.

“You made me feel . . .”

Really?  You “made me” feel good?  You “made me” feel awful?  You “made me” feel like a million dollars?

If I have to, I’ll choose number three.  But my point is that whatever you do is entirely within your control, not mine.  But how I respond is entirely within my control, not yours.  So you cannot “make me” feel anything.  “Invite?” Perhaps.  “Make?”  No.

From time to time in my business career I’ve been involved in litigation, which is always a waste of time and money.  In many cases the goal of the other side is to “make me” feel miserable.  They haven’t succeeded yet.  I remind myself that I enjoy the thrill of being deposed (as a witness, not as a king).  I believe that a trial is terrific theater, with a real audience and real results.  I appreciate the skill of the better attorney (who I always hope is mine).

When my alma mater USC plays football against Notre Dame, occasionally Notre Dame gets lucky and wins, just to upset me (as they did last Saturday).  But I always remember that I choose to be upset.  I also choose to be delighted when USC wins.  I also remind myself that no one is forcing me to either watch the game or care about the outcome.

I recently received the first really negative comment on this blog.  The comment was anonymous, and began:

“I read your blog often and find it to be awful.”  The four following paragraphs elaborated on that theme.

I admit that my immediate reaction was ninety-five percent rage, five percent shame.  But my second reaction was to wonder, if my blog was so awful to Mr. or Ms. Anonymous, why did he or she keep reading it week after week?  Hmmm.  No doubt an internet troll trying to “make me” feel anger or shame.  Instead, I felt pleased.

Well, Troll, if you are still reading my blog, I’d be happy to hear from you again.  I hope you don’t “feel” frustrated because you didn’t “make me” feel angry or ashamed.  After reading your negative comment, I felt delighted that you and several thousand others are regular readers.

Of course, now that I’ve shared my secret with you, you might not bother to write to me again.  I’m okay with that too.

Today has started well.  It’s going to be a great day.

Alan