Getting organized

I have to get organized. Course, I say that every year and repeat it at least once a week. I do manage to drag myself through the years without missing too much but it’s getting harder.

As of this writing, I am in the possession of, or have exclusive access to, two desktop computers, a laptop, a tablet, smart phone, and a paper planner. I have a business card scanner and an app on my smart phone for the same purpose. In short, I have every possible tool that could or would make my personal and professional life the envy of my neighborhood. The end result of this state of organizational copiousness is nothing works.

The two desktops have different versions of the same time and task management software. Neither one of them will talk to my cell phone though they will talk to each other if they are in the mood. The laptop is old and works when it feels like it. Because it was the workhorse of the bunch until a few days ago, much of my history is on it. I can get it switched to a desktop when the beast is up to working.  It’s just plain ornery in its old age. The tablet is so conceited it won’t talk to anybody. The smart phone tries to get along but it’s tough when nobody will talk to anybody. Oh, I failed to mention that I have a twelve-plus year old customer relationship management software that will talk to nobody but itself.

I bought a business card scanner and its attendant smart phone app in the hopes that I could, at long last, get this crowd of braniacs to talk to one another and help me get my act together. The end result is I have to load each card twice. Once into the desktop scanner and again into the cell phone with no advantage at all to me.

The only “system” I am not having problems with is the paper planner. It never crashes, does not NEED to talk to anybody but me, and does not require any weird stuff or tools. It’s also cheap. Its sole downfall is the entry clerk. “He” can’t write worth a hoot.

Toby

Toby the cat met his maker last Monday at a little after 10:00AM. I think he was somewhere around sixteen years old. I was with him at the moment of his passing. You will be comforted to know that his passing was peaceful.

Toby is survived by his keepers, namely, the wife and I. He did not, so far as I know, have any siblings and I never did meet his parents. His house, two cars, and remainder of his worldly goods have been left in our care until such time as another cat takes up residence. Toby was insistent that the heir to his fortune be an orange short hair such as he was.

Toby liked eating, sleeping, and otherwise ordering his keepers about. He was devoted to his cat nip mouse, the likes of which remain in the house until the new owner arrives. There is also an assigned spot on the front room couch that he instructed not to be set upon by any human at any time. It is reserved in his memory and for the sole use of his heir.

He and I had a conversation not long before he passed. He was angry with me, as I recall, because neither I nor my wife had given him any food, as of late, that he considered worthy of his pallet. I tried to explain to him that he had diabetes and this new food was meant to treat that. Cats, as you may know, have zero knowledge of medicine so he took instant and violent opposition to my claim. He had the temerity to accuse me of changing his food to save money. When I defended myself he excused me from the room. I spent the rest of that day in my bedroom.

On the day of his passing, we had our last discussion, during which he dismissed my claim that he was sick in the strongest of terms. I made the observation that he had gone from a very healthy sixteen pounds to just over eight in a few weeks’ time. He responded that his weight loss had been the direct result of the lousy food we had given him. His final comment to me was to pee on my jacket.

Toby was a special part of our lives. We will miss him. Rest well, little buddy.