I’ve been trying out a little trick that I learned from Shawn Blanc. Every night, I choose my clothes for the next morning.
This is no unique, innovative idea, of course; making sure that you have pressed shirts & pants is a night-before practice for many, and some parents encourage their school-aged kids to pre-choose clothes, as a time-saving trick for busy mornings (and to make sure dirty clothes are identified before drop-off!).
Shawn's explanation for trying this practice is twofold:
For one, it is a way to build personal integrity. To say that you’re going to do something, and then actually follow through with it, regularly, begins to tell your own self that you are trustworthy. You can begin to build momentum from the pride & confidence you have in yourself as being able to do what you set out to complete.
Secondly, your present self is making life easier for your future self. It sounds silly, and maybe it is! All I know is that nighttime me is not particularly taxed by picking out what I will wear the next day, but morning me is incredibly grateful to have a thought-out, assembled outfit ready to go without beginning the day with the litany of choice.
It doubles for me as a simple way to grab my clothes in the dark and get ready before everyone else in the house has woken up. I’m a morning person, and I’ve always liked being dressed for the day as opposed to wearing my pyjamas, so it works for me.
Weekends are a different story, but this has become my weekday routine. I think it may be a gateway into more tidiness, as well. I can see the effect creeping into my life elsewhere, too.
What do you think? Want to try it?
This season for dignify has challenged us with waiting. Blankets have been leaving our hands at the fastest pace ever (yay!) and we are trying to simply keep up. Add extra inconveniences & delays (from COVID, from customs checks, and more), and we have been really exercising our muscles in patience, trust, and gratitude.
Culturally, we are in a stage of waiting, as well. Waiting for vaccine rollout. Waiting for "normal" opportunities to return, for "normal" life to resume in our cities, our nations.
Looking back at some photos from last Christmas, I came across this screenshot from my phone that really made me laugh:
My husband was dropping off our parcels recently, and a woman working in our shipper's office said, "I was looking at your site, and I think I might buy some of these blankets this year as gifts; I'm mostly shopping online." Another employee chimed in, "I'm going to do all of my shopping online, too."
That evening, he went with our kids to the mall to pick something up (masked, natch), and as he surveyed the hallways — with some permanently closed stores, some shuttered from lack of employees, etc. — Wayne's thought was, "I think I need to do all my shopping at the mall!"