Structure matters.

Every Saturday morning, I knew what breakfast was before I opened my eyes or could smell it wafting from the kitchen. The only question was what shape it would take: flat pancake or textured waffle?

Clay was a peanut butter snob. Always and only ever Adams 100% Natural Peanut Butter Crunchy.

There were always at least two to three jars in the pantry, stored upside down so the oil wouldn't just pool at the bottom. When we were ready for a fresh jar, it was a big deal to flip it over and stir. And stir. And stir. And then stir some more. Bonus points if you didn't spill anything.

But back to breakfast. Grandma Littlejohn made just-the-right-sized pancakes. And Grandpa Littlejohn taught me to eat them by first slathering on butter, then sprinkling sugar, and finally styling with a little syrup before folding in half and wolfing down in one bite. This was my first choice for pancake condiment. However, since this particular combination was frowned on (is there such a thing as too much sugar?!?), I could depend on peanut butter as the runner up. But my favorite peanut butter delivery mechanism was not the aforementioned pancakes, but rather fresh, warm French bread.

It was a happy day in our house when they introduced the plastic jar with brown lid.

You see, we had a rather large collection of empty jars, freshly washed with the label removed. One summer Clay built a set of three custom shelving units to hold 8 jars across by 5 jars high. Once installed in the shop it became instant organization for nuts, bolts, washer, screws, and a few other bits meticulously sorted into their own jar.

This wall is one of my favorite things about his legacy. Every time I'm working on something and need to find a nut or a bolt, I remember all the precious time together over breakfast (or that French bread) planning the weekend work. I benefitted from his foresight and (little bit of OCD).?

Organization hangs on framework

Without the shelving, we just have have a massive collection of 120 jars of bits and bobs (yeah, that's a lot of peanut butter). They have to go somewhere intentional to be useful. Shelving on a shop wall, a cabinet, but somewhere.

Organization can be portable

Everything in a jar on the wall is visible, and in reach. Now I can go to the wall and take what I need from the jar and go do (whatever). OR, I can take the whole jar to my project, and then use the lid to pour out some of the contents. When I'm done, I can put the lid back on and not risk spillage.

Organization can inspire other organization

While we are admitted peanut butter snobs, we're not jar snobs (except for preferring the plastic to glass for the shop). Over time, we branched out to Costco cashew jars, ideal for plumbing bits, and dog treat containers for tractor bobs. Both happen to fit perfectly in the old kitchen cupboards and cabinets we installed in the shop.

The shop shelving shows up in how I navigate my work. I see it in the infrastructure of my personal productivity system, and how much time I save by finding what I need when I need it.

I see the jars in the order and method of my templates and how I curate references and resources.

Now I look for ways to arrange the work I do in "visible" ways--the more readily I can see the structure behind it, the better I can "hack" it.

Points to ponder

• How do you organize the work you do?
• Can you see the infrastructure your habits hang on?

Actionable application

Review a task you do frequently.

Evaluate if it's optimized to produce the greatest/best output with minimal input and effort.