The keys landed beside the door. The bag landed on a chair. The scarf landed wherever gravity felt persuasive. Every evening, the flat demonstrated a routine. Every weekend, I tried to solve that routine by imagining another basket.
A basket is an object. A routine is a sequence of people doing things. Mine did not become clearer when I added more objects to receive its aftermath.
I watched three ordinary mornings. Where did I reach? What did I need to find quickly? Which thing was regularly put down in a place that made the next task harder? The notes were more useful than a list of attractive storage products.
The first change was a designated place for keys within the movement I already made when arriving home. The second was making room for a coat where I actually removed it. The bag needed a place that did not occupy the chair I wanted to sit in.
None of these changes required pretending I would become a completely different person at the threshold. A system that depends on heroic tidiness is likely to collapse on a tired Tuesday. I wanted a recognizable home for an object that could be reached with the attention I really had.
The hallway still shows signs of life. There is occasionally a scarf performing an unauthorized landing. The difference is that putting it away has a clear destination rather than a choice among several hopeful containers.
I may buy another basket when I can describe its particular job. At present, the morning is working rather better with a few observations and fewer imaginary purchases.
A thought worth keeping?
