I realized this week that part of the reason that everything has been stressing me out for months is that I have reached the ends of my memory buffer. I've just started a new experiment in my research gig; this spring I'm teaching a new class that's just at the limit of my expertise; my kids are busier than ever and always pushing into new directions, meaning that their school and activity schedules are increasingly complicated; and I have the audacity to continue to develop my own interests. Plus, you know, we have this house that has to be maintained, groceries to buy, meals to prepare, laundry to do. Summer is coming; I want to plant strawberries this spring, I want to find some way to prepare eggplant that my kids will enjoy, I want to do more canning, I want to do more composting. I'm taking classes this summer in statistics and the sociology of popular culture. Why aren't there more hours in the week, and how can I possibly keep track of the 168 that I've been given?
I'm finally willing to concede that I just can't store it all in my head. I have a history of success with planners, but my last beloved Filofax (old Kensington style, thanks) is completely beaten and ragged and I haven't found anything in the last 3 years that makes me as happy. And I've frequently been resistant to my planners, feeling the tyranny of all that scheduling crushing down on me more heavily when it's presented in text.
I mentioned this to a colleague this afternoon, whining about my demand resistance and my inability to keep track of everything and blah blah blah, and she fell out laughing at me - just that afternoon she'd cited a paper of mine in which I explain the neurophysiological and cognitive limitations to human multitasking.
And I, of course, had completely forgotten that I'd ever written that paper, way way back in 2007.
So I caved and went this evening to buy a 2009 calendar insert for my old Filofax. It looks like hell but it works a dream, and I really need something more that works.