Finding time for laundry

Organizing one’s life — similarly to laundry — in a never ending cycle of entrapment.

Sure, you think, “put a few systems in place and everything will be fine.” You lie to yourself, “I’ll be on task.”

But the fact of the matter is, unless you wash your clothes in the nude, you’re wardrobe is never fully laundered. And every minute you spend attempting to file, categorize or schedule your life, is another minute mismanaged.

The thing is, unless you like being shun from society, you have to keep the threads clean. The thing is, unless you like being shun from society, you have to keep a planner — and follow it.

As an associate publisher, I wear many different outfits. On any given day, I’m a salesman, reporter, enforcer, sympathizer, leader, follower, janitor.

OK, so I’m never a janitor.

If the worst happened, I could put the news magazine together by myself. This exercise would be fueled by cigarettes and coffee. But it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. Unsigned contracts would find their way under copy marked up with red ink. My reporter’s notebooks would be recklessly tossed around. And waiting for me at home: piles of dirty clothes littered with spilled coffee and hot sauce that followed gravity to that new white cotton dress shirt.

Luckily, I work with a talented staff that allow me a few precious hours to myself, my piles and files. Still, I can’t seem to get a handle on time management.

I’ve tried everything: hacking a Moleskin, apps, calendars, Google calendar. Operator failure, no doubt.

Then, searching in earnest, I discovered a new app that merged my to-dos, calendar and notes all in one. I had found salvation and there wasn’t a dirty sock as far as the eye could see.

I really didn’t have the $9.99 to purchase the app — that money should have been allocated for a roll of quarters for the aforementioned chore. But I declared it would be a worthy investment.

After a few moments of tinkering and exploring my new “Smart” Pad, I configured my settings: a calendar for editorial, marketing, business and events. In a flash of hysteria, I even set up a personal calendar, too. I went right into the to-do list.

My iPhone, an arms length away, charging, was the next step. Click a few buttons and my world would be synced. I smiled. But that night there wasn’t a cloud in the sky that could sync my life.

It turned out, I’d have to spend another $4.99 for the companion app.

A dirty, dirty Ponzi scheme.

I hung my head and clicked “download.” Excitement turned to obligation. But the satisfaction — while waning — of getting things done would be just as rewarding as the smell of freshly laundered jersey cotton.

Log in. Click. Sync. Click. Wait. Nothing. 3 a.m. I missed my morning work out and my 9 a.m. meeting.

During the next three days, I would submit a help ticket, accidentally delete very important notes I typed up in the app, threaten my friend who worked at Apple with a lawsuit — not really — and continued to lose too many hours of sleep.

Finally, I received some guidance from the app developer. It’s easy the faceless coward Hanh told me: I needed to sync my Google Calendar with my iCal and link iCal with the app. But first — and I figured this out all on my own — I needed to burn the village to save the children. On both my iPad and iPhone, I had to remove every single calendar that had ever pre-populated.

And in the pre-dawn hours of the next  Saturday, on the eve of a full moon, my life, for the moment, was in order.

I took one last look at basket of dirty laundry sitting next to the door, took a gulp of water and went to bed.