Lists

One essential thing about living with a slightly OCD/borderline Asperger hubby (typical of most programmers, btw) is understanding the importance of lists.

My optimistic assumption that my husband will eventually learn to pick up on obvious visual and social cues has long been dispelled and I've discovered coping mechanism number one: when I need something, I have to file a deficiency report. In everyday terms, this means documenting it in the form of a list.

Being a little slow, it took me a bit to figure that out. Example: I once left a hamper full of freshly-folded, clean laundry at the bottom of the stairs. During the day I usually have a child attached to me so it's difficult to take that final step of putting away clean laundry. The hamper sat there for days and days. I watched him step around it, move it a little bit even so it's out of his way, but it never ever occurred to him that I might want that upstairs.

Then there's the toilet paper incident. Now tell me, if I had three rolls of toilet paper at the bottom of the stairs and the bathroom is upstairs, doesn't it make sense that I want those rolls of toilet paper upstairs, especially since we are clearly running out of tp? But no, unless I actually specify and identify "bring the d!@# thing upstairs, please" the toilet paper will remain at the bottom of the stairs until we use up the last remaining square in the bathroom. The funny thing is when I snap, he would look at the subject of my irritation (i.e. laundry hamper or toilet paper rolls in this case) and he'll look at them as if he's seeing them for the first time, which of course, he would be. So, yes, if I want something done, I need to either ask specifically or to write it down on a list.

The thing is, the busier Jon gets, as he is these days, the more likely he is to slip into this list-dependency. Here's what I mean. Let's say I wrote a list like this:

JON TO DO:
-assemble new bookshelf
-pick up drycleaning
-get haircut
-take Fergus to the vet
-buy milk, eggs, bread, baby food, 8 bushels of kumquats

I swear he would come home the next day sporting a new haircut, pet carrier in hand with a newly-innoculated cat, pile of drycleaning heaped on the newly assembled bookshelf, groceries on the kitchen counter, and his only question to me would be: "Where do you want me to put the kumquats?" It's as if he goes on auto-pilot when he sees a list and all he would worry about is checking them off.

Now that I am at home a lot, I am more aware of perilous conditions and lurking danger in every corner of this house. I can mention them to Jon, but unless I write the tasks down, they will probably not get addressed. Live electric wires might be sizzling and protruding from walls, nail heads erupting from these ancient hardwood floors, and un-babyproofed drawer doors might be waiting to crush curious baby fingers, but no, Jon will never notice these dangers until they make it to a list.

I should just ask Jon to write me a little list-tracker program where I can add things as I need them. It doesn't have to be complicated. I just want to be able to enter my request, assign priority, and specify required completion dates. Ideally, we should also be able to generate status reports. That's all. I think something like that would work really well for both of us. I can even have fun with the list and sneak in things like "bring home truffles for wife" every once in a while.