There’s nothing that stresses me out, makes me irritated, and sends me to a frenzy of OCD organizing and cleaning than lack of efficiency. A residual Type A trait that I’ve clung tightly to, to be efficient means achieving maximum productivity with minimum wasted effort or expense.
I strive to be efficient because what I’ve learned is that I’m happiest and least stressed when there is an order. Too bad life cannot work that way, right? I try to schedule way more time than necessary to get to places; I limit my appointments to a few a day and if I am running errands or try to cluster them by geographical location. (Either this sounds really nerdy right now, or very typical human behavior).
The only problem is when other people come in to mess it up. My former roommate was the least efficient person I’d ever met. He was a free spirit and lived by the “Don’t worry. It’ll all work out. What’s the big deal?” mentality. (Um, the big deal is that you could’ve saved a lot of time and gas if you would’ve done it my way). He used to make fun of me and mockingly tell me, “That’s not efficient.” I love him, but I swear, sometimes I wanted to strangle him.
I guess neither way is right or wrong, but probably, as most things in life tend to be, a happy middle between efficiency and a “whatever” attitude would be the best way to get through life, but I just don’t see how that would be the most efficient.
Ugh. Guess I’m still more Type A than I thought I was…