And now for the morning confession at the Shack. I hate filing papers. Ok, maybe I don’t hate it, but I don’t like it. I find filing papers to have all of the allure of a root canal. It is as exciting to me as watching paint peel. Feh.
I can already hear some of you. I know all about the “file as you go” system. I do that. I am not unorganized. Ask me where a particular paper is and I can tell you. Need information, not a problem I can get it to you in a timely fashion.
Still, I find this to be exceptionally tedious. It is just one of those things that I can find a million reasons not to do. My feelings on this are not quite as strong as my grandfather’s were. He really disliked it.
Grandpa was known to use the stuff the shoebox method of filing. The good old shoebox was a source of great stress to my father, the Virgo.
Dad takes organization to new levels. It is an art form and a necessary evil. I have to tell you that as I sit here at the keyboard I am chuckling just thinking about it. I might have even guffawed once or twice.
The memories of my father trying to convince my grandfather to adjust his filing system are quite pleasant. Just to give some background here, both my grandfather and father were/are blue eyed men.
My siblings and I learned at an early age that when dad’s eyes got that steely glare he was serious. You didn’t want to receive the glare. Most often the recipient was yours truly. It wasn’t always pleasant, but then again no child wants to be disciplined for misbehaving.
My grandfather’s eyes usually twinkled. Quite often the twinkle was matched with a whimsical smirk. He had a look that made you wonder just what made him so happy, you couldn’t help but want to be let in on the joke.
Filing was the reason that the twinkle and smirk would sometimes go up against the glare. It wasn’t a fair fight. The glare always lost to the twinkle and smirk. My father had too much respect for his father to push too hard. He would only go so far before he gave up.
It is a trait that has been passed down through the generations. My grandfather talked of his disagreements with his father so I know from those stories how things went. And I know from my own experience with my father. We have battled. We have engaged in a mighty test of wills, but in the end I know how far to push. It is an issue of respect.
You know, I’d write more about this but I really have to get to filing. Have I mentioned how much I dislike it. I think that in terms of chores one of the few things I dislike more is doing the dishes. Given the choice I might eat off paper plates for the rest of my life.
See you later. There is a stack of paid bills that needs to be taken care of.