Alvin and the Chipmunks was my wake-up call. A Blu-ray copy of the film had stared down from my bookshelf for years, accumulating dust, when one day a shard of sunlight landed on it, as if directed by a higher power. This prompted some uncomfortable questions. Had I watched it? No. Did I intend to? No. So why had I let it linger there untouched for such a long time? The answer is simple: I’m a disorganised mess.
Zooming out, things weren’t much better. I had a mountain of clothes that needed to be hung up or put away, cupboards stuffed with God knows what, plates and mugs that I had never used … The thought of sorting everything out was overwhelming.
My mind wandered to other areas of my life that could do with some scrubbing up: my finances, health and general productivity. There are 24 hours in a day but, more often than not, they flitter away and I’ve hardly achieved anything.
I am not the only person who struggles with the constant demands of modern life. Hence the boom in admin nights, where strangers gather in cafes and bars to blast through their backlog of unpaid bills, unanswered texts or unneeded subscriptions.
My first step, though, was to pick up a notepad and pen and do something I hadn’t done in a long time. I made a list, and immediately felt a little better about myself. As Vicky Reynal, a London-based psychotherapist, puts it: “We all have something in our minds about the kind of person we want to be, whether that’s ‘adulting’ while taking more responsibility, or looking after ourselves to the best of our ability, and sometimes a to-do list can help us move a step closer.” So began what I hoped would be a month-long journey of self-improvement.
Day 1
“Sort out clothes.” This is the first item on my to-do list. And what a mammoth task I’ve set myself. My clothing rail has two dozen smart-looking white wooden hangers to give my setup a sleek, curated look. But this is undermined not only by the shabby old garments hanging off them, in a sight to make Miranda Priestly gag, but also by the heap of clothing that sits in a compartment above. The lower layers are neatly folded but the T-shirts, trousers and shorts near the top are scrunched and rolled up, slotted into random gaps to maintain the structural integrity of my fabric Jenga tower.
The first step is to dismantle this heap, which, I’m ashamed to say, is almost three feet high. “Oh, I was looking for that” and “I’d wondered where that was,” I mutter intermittently as I sort through it.
My word, there is a lot of hideous stuff. For years, I have bought clothes only if they are in the sale and, aside from a few gems, I’ve amassed a wardrobe full of one-hit misfires, worn once before being tossed on the pile or shoved on to a hanger. Among them is a multicoloured denim Tommy Hilfiger jacket that Andrew Lloyd Webber would probably consider a bit much even for his Joseph.
I am about halfway through, with two bin bags full of clothes for the charity shop, when I realise I have taken on too much for one day. This is where I learn my first lesson: break down each task. “A good to-do list is achievable, realistic and has concrete objectives,” says Reynal. “When you break down tasks into small steps, they become more manageable and less frightening.”
Day 3
Starting my day with a to-do list is not only becoming part of my morning routine – it is helping me form one again. Instead of jumping straight into work emails, I put my phone and laptop aside and, notebook in hand, think: what do I need to do today? This is much easier without the constant barrage of notifications.
I squiggle down the basics: make coffee and eat breakfast. It may sound silly, but as I tick off every task, no matter how insignificant, it gives me a push to keep going. I then write up a list of my work tasks, including a few I would normally leave until they became urgent, and feel calmer for it. It is the most productive working day I’ve had in ages. I also jot down some other things I’d like to achieve today: spend an hour reading, go to the gym and buy some more bin bags for my clear-out.
I finish sorting out my clothes after work. A gym session follows and, just before going to sleep, I fit in an hour of reading. I tick this final item off my list and get another hit of dopamine.
Day 7
Today is my first big test. I’m in Barcelona for a weekend trip, and surely a holiday is a time to unwind and leave the pressures of normal life behind? But I don’t want to fall back into bad habits, so I’m pressing ahead with my daily to-do list.
As I lie on my hotel bed, however, I realise filling it with tasks is a bit of a struggle. “Read for an hour” is the only substantial one. The rest are things my mum would tell me to do: put on sunscreen, eat dinner, get souvenirs.
I place the notebook in my backpack in case something else pops into my head, but I get carried away with having fun instead.
Before I know it, it’s 2am and I’m in a nightclub. Out of nowhere, a pang of guilt hits me. I haven’t opened my notebook for hours and most of my tasks remain undone. I consider whipping out my copy of The Grapes of Wrath to fit in the reading, but reconsider and press on with the night.
Day 10
I’ve been ill ever since I made a noisy exit from the nightclub at 4am, and an angry local doused me with cold water. For the past two days, my notebook has been untouched. I know I have a valid excuse but I can’t help feeling bad. Reynal had warned me that to-do lists can be destructive, especially if they are too ambitious or you “beat yourself up over what you didn’t achieve that day”. Even so, I can’t help thinking of all the tasks mounting up.
Day 15
I’m much better now, and excited about tackling my backlog, which includes finishing sorting out my home and getting on top of work emails. As an experiment, I’ve also ditched my notebook in favour of an app called Todoist.
In the morning, I log my tasks on my phone but notice that I am wandering towards other apps, my focus on the day at hand beginning to dwindle. Nevertheless, I crack on with tackling my bookshelf, which has more than 100 books plus 50 DVDs, video games and that damned Alvin and the Chipmunks Blu-ray. It’s the first thing tossed into a bin bag. Among the other tat I’ve accumulated are three copies of The Day of the Triffids, none of which I’ve read, stacks of magazines, some of which date back at least five years, and a few 1,000-page doorstoppers that I’m never going to read.
Some things are hard to let go of and I feel a conflict between the person I thought I might one day become (an incredibly well-read master of the zeitgeist), the reality (I crack the spines of about a dozen books a year) and who the lists are making me (ruthlessly organised and productivity-driven). I take a step back and return some of the more ambitious titles to my bookshelf. Although I want to be more productive, it’s not at the cost of believing that I’ll get around to War and Peace one day.
Day 18
My digital to-do list isn’t really hitting. Starting my day off in the virtual realm allows my thoughts to sway and old impulses to take over: namely succumbing to notifications and doomscrolling. So I’ve reverted to my notepad, and oh, how I’ve missed it. The quaint squiggle of a pen focuses my thoughts once more. Reynal says it’s a matter of “personal preference … Some clients tell me of the satisfaction they feel from physically crossing something off a list. But these days apps can throw confetti at you and help you feel equally in touch with the emotional feeling that comes when you achieve something.”
I spend longer than usual collating my list and use today as a bit of a reset. To help me along, I invite some friends over for our very own admin night. According to one study with which Reynal was involved, attending one of these a month could save you £2,400 a year, especially if you use the time to focus on budgeting or find cheaper utility providers.
Two friends show up at about 6pm and we get ready to knuckle down. I even throw some picky bits in the air fryer and put on some ambient music. But I soon realise that my small studio flat isn’t really set up for this, as we all squeeze on to my sofa, computers on our laps.
I plan to get a handle on my finances: cancel subscriptions, study my outgoings and see how much I can save if I cut out all my frivolous spending. I make a good start, filling in a few columns of my spreadsheet but the close quarters setup soon becomes stifling. This, combined with the music, makes me feel as if I’m stuck in a cramped lift with no way out.
Day 22
Things are firmly back on track. My notebook is getting well used and today is all about meal prep. Usually when I go shopping, I don’t have a list and grab whatever catches my eye. This results in some very haphazard meals that rarely hit the spot. No more, I say today, and go to the supermarket with a thought-out list accounting for protein, cost and taste. When I return home, I whip up an extra-meaty chilli, some spicy chicken noodles and, with my remaining mince, beef kofte and some bulgur.
Would I have done this without my to-do (and shopping) list? No. Balanced nutrition is one of the last things I usually think about while trying to keep up with everything.
Day 25
Today doesn’t get off to a great start: I rush out of the door without jotting down my tasks. To be fair, I’m covering the Clacton byelection and expecting a hectic day once I arrive in Essex. So when I have a moment, I do something that might sound pointless: I write down the tasks I’ve already done today – pack bag, buy train ticket, email XYZ – to take stock of everything I’ve accomplished so far. Reynal says some of her clients do the same: “You’re trying to tap a little bit further into that feeling of achievement.”
The day drags on, and then the night. The result isn’t declared until about 5am. The lack of sleep must be making me hallucinate: an intergalactic bin came in second.
Day 28
A lot of the big tasks on my list are getting crossed out. My flat is getting decluttered, I’ve zoomed through a big pile of non-urgent work emails, and my financial and physical health has improved. A few hard tasks remain, though Reynal says ticking off the easiest things can “spark a virtuous cycle. It gives you a sense of confidence that you can achieve something.”
But she advises against leaving the toughest stuff until the end, “when you’re depleted and your energy is at its lowest”. Her warning is ringing in my ears as I tackle two big cupboards I haven’t dug through properly in years. Aside from a few surprise items, including a pink minifridge, the expectation turns out to be worse than the reality. The bulk of the rubbish is empty appliance boxes. I speed through the clear-out, and proudly tick off this once daunting task.
Day 31
It’s the final day of my to-do list experiment. Has it changed my life? In some ways, yes. Not necessarily because of what I have thrown away, or replied to, or tidied up, but because of the sense of control it has given me. I had long assumed there was nothing I could do to battle my feeling of being overwhelmed. We are always accessible through our phones, subscriptions are king if you want to keep up with the cultural zeitgeist, and with contactless taps and takeaway apps the norm nowadays, it’s no wonder our finances and health can spin out of control.
“As life becomes more chaotic and complex, it becomes increasingly difficult to hold everything in our minds. Our mental load is growing and, with it, so is the stress of holding it all together,” says Reynal. “Any tools that can help us hold it all in place are helpful and to-do lists are one of those tools.”
Hear, hear. That gets a tick from me.
