I have a rule: the number of things you have to do will increase in an exponential proportion to the number of gadgets, whizmos, and whatchee-macallits you own. The corollary, no matter how many gadgets, whizmos, and whatchee-macallits you have, none of them will ever synch up together.
I used to keep mental notes. Then I got married and had kids. No more room on the chalkboard, people. So, I decided to carry around one of those mini-tape recorders to act as my auxiliary memory bank. But, I grew tired of the looks from people around me when I would pop out my tape recorder and whisper, “Pick up kids. Dog food at grocery store.”
To me, that makes total, perfect, jewel-of-wisdom sense. It means: pick up the kids and go to the grocery store for dog food. According to the child welfare agents, they thought I was feeding my children dog food. Go figure.
After that, I explored lots of other–high tech, lo tech, and no tech–ways of keeping track of my family duties and my startup business: Jot thoughts on post it notes. Scribble on scraps of restaurant napkins. Keep a Google calendar. Leave Cell phone messages for myself. The thing is, now I can’t remember what the message was, where I left the message, or if I left the message at all.
I hit the wall yesterday. I found a Post-it note reminding me to take a scrap of paper out of my coat pocket that told me to check my cell phone message about verifying a date on my Google calendar.
Mental note: My synching feeling has just sunk to an all-new low.
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