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"Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance!"
This is just another one of those inspirational mantras that guide a mantra-happy society.

Without catchy sound bites, we would all probably forget our heads (if they weren't attached.)

But I'm not here to extol the virtues of being prepared or thinking ahead. I'm here to tell you that ANYTHING can be taken too far.

The P6 philosophy works really well if you happen to be the Army, or NASA, or the person in charge of Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. For an individual, however, there exists a thin line between proper planning and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.

Much like the atom can be split (with somewhat disastrous consequences) so can ultra-organization ultimately result in huge, unhealthy mushroom-shaped clouds. Or at least a pleasing minimalist, orthogonal padded cell.

I am ready to admit it. I have a problem. Extrapolating my current position, I will implode in a purple cloud of preparatory organization by the year 2009.

For starters, I am never late.

Well, once I was late. In the spring of 1987, I got hung up at the blood bank, donating at a slow drip (this is the truth, I swear.) My husband brings up this deviation often. There is hope, you see.

I understand that compulsive promptness has its drawbacks. Being "socially late" is practically a requirement in this society. Though I have always had problems in this area, I thought that once I had a couple of kids, the problem would be solved of its own accord. Not so! I just prepare and project further in advance to compensate. Add three minutes to find matching socks. 172 seconds for shoe tying. 90 seconds for a last-minute bathroom break. 5% weather penalty. Square root. Carry the two. Bingo.

I am always prepared for inclement weather. I, personally, own over 30 umbrellas, and carry ultra-compact vacuum-sealed rain gear in all vehicles, next to a first-aid kit that would qualify as a hospital in most third-world countries.

I don't have an "everything drawer" - I have an "Only Certain Things" drawer. When normal people look in there, they say, "Oh my GOD, you are quite mad, you know." I look in there and say, "I wish all the glue sticks matched."

The theory behind organization is that, when you need stuff - it'll be right there at your fingertips. But in reality, if you really ARE that organized, you're not likely to want to disturb the order, just to *use something.

Sadly, I am not alone.

It's the most organized people who feel the least organized. Being adequately prepared isn't a state of being, it's a goal. You can't actually achieve it, only come asymptotically closer. There comes a point of diminishing returns. But the retailers, at least would have you ignore that fact.

Have you noticed lately that retail sales of day-planners, calendars, palm pilots, drawer dividers, filing systems, and such has reached frenzy level? The same is true of diet books and paraphernalia, but you don't see us getting collectively thinner, do you?

Being organized and prepared can ultimately be a social hindrance. Like excessive wealth, and toned thighs, "organization" is envied, even to the point of hatred. You lose friends when you start asking them to sit alphabetically. (Just ask Martha.)

The trick is to be exactly as orderly as the national median. Which is to say, pretty darn disorganized: You should know where the car is, but not necessarily the keys. You should presume to have a backup supply of toilet paper, without checking inventory under "T", even though this is clearly a risky proposition. You should not care.

Because proper planning, carried to my extreme, can rob from the enjoyment of life, particularly its precious unpredictabilities. Rolling with life's punches is what it's about. Not wearing protective boxing gear (and packing emergency toilet paper) around the clock "just in case."

Proper Planning Potentially Penalizes Pleasure. It's a new mantra for an over organized society.

I'll have to write that in my planner.