Filing away the past

My straightforward task — cleaning out a file cabinet — should have been routine. A non-event.

I've tried to pare things down before, but this was a walk through my academic life.

I found class notes and blue books. And old readers (remember those spiral-bound packets we had to buy?).

I found papers I don't remember writing about poems I don't remember reading for classes I don't remember taking. (And I was an English minor!) The dot-matrix printing may have faded, but the grades and comments still resonate like a Phil Collins tune.

Recycling everything felt like throwing away my thoughts and experiences, even my old feelings: Panic, anxiety, exhilaration, pride (and that only brings us to 1992).

I have to admit, I saved a few of those papers. Whoever says grades don't matter clearly does not have a file cabinet of old work.

Ketchup already

I'm at work on a Saturday — for the first time ever, wah! — to move offices. It's much easier to move when you wear shorts and comfortable shoes. Plus I can make lots of noise and wander back and forth without irritating Jane and Kelsey.

So why am I not shuttling stuff to my new office right now? Well. I've gotten most of it done, but I've grown tired. Repinning stuff from the bulletin boards is mentally exhausting. (So is realizing that I have two framed photos of Ginger and none of Papaya.)

It's humbling to relocate, to confront the harsh reality of a decade's worth of habits. Take, for example, the top drawer — prime desk real estate. Unfortunately mine became a wasteland of things I thought I needed and forgot I had.

I am a ketchup hoarder.

Which is weird, because I don't use a lot of it. Maybe that's why some of the packets were oddly bloated; the time in my office did them no favors.

Apparently I also liked plastic rulers (about seven of them). And a lipstick I bought in Japan eight years ago, which was almost gone and never got used anyway because I kept other lipstick stubs for makeup emergencies.

But this move has taught me a lot. Like: Sunscreen belongs in a drawer, not on the desk. As well as: It's tough to corral paper clips. And: Rubber bands eventually get brittle and break.

This is a tiring day. But I'm pacing myself by eating stuff from Jane's snack drawer: honey mustard pretzels and half a sleeve of Girl Scout cookies. It's all good, right? I mean, they are going to expire next month and no one wants stale shortbread.

Now it's time to get back to work. Jane, you're right about the change of perspective. I just didn't realize it would start with the process of moving.

New York hotels (and expectations)

In January, I'm going to New York to scope out jewelry trends at the winter JANY Show. I got my flight and just needed to book a hotel room.

Well, maybe not "just."

Booking a hotel room anywhere can be an ordeal, but New York has so many hotels, it always takes me a while to figure out the best strategy. Even after five business trips, I don't have a surefire way of getting a decent room at a reasonable rate.

With the imploding economy taking its toll on hotel bookings, I thought I'd have a decent shot. Also, I hoped that there wouldn't be many tourists visiting during the coldest time of the year.

How to do this? Should I research the TripAdvisor reviews and call a hotel directly? Or try a discounted booking site like booking.com or Quikbook?

A few years ago I stayed at The Gershwin for $119 a night — their regular rate. It was more of a hostel than a hotel, but I didn't mind the hardwood floors or the lukewarm-but-never-hot shower because I didn't expect a luxurious room. And expectations are everything.

Now, being able to research and compare hotels down to the tiniest of details can be a curse. Until I saw someone's review, the speed of the elevator, for example, had never been a consideration. I just want a clean, quiet room. I don't need a rooftop pool or a monogrammed robe. I would, however, like a working thermostat and free wireless.

Anyway, here's what I did: I went to Bidding for Travel, checked the winning bids on Manhattan hotel rooms, and then gambled at Priceline. I bid $170 for a 3.5-star room in Midtown West. After that got rejected, I bid $175 and added Midtown East as a parameter. Bingo!

I know it might have been smarter to reserve a hotel on my credit card and then cancel when I found a better rate closer to my trip. But, in case you haven't noticed, I don't like to leave stuff up to chance.

By the way, here's where I'm staying. Looks nice, doesn't it? After my trip, I'll let you know if this "treasure of rare distinction" lives up to the hype.

Picture frames and other decisions

I’ve made the biggest decisions of my life quickly and confidently. The house and the dog — I didn’t deliberate endlessly even though they were decisions with life-changing consequences. Maybe because, even though buying a house and adopting a dog both entail risk, they also require a leap of faith. I couldn’t possibly know the outcome of those decisions in advance, so I just had to trust myself. Also, because there are a limited number of houses and dogs, I didn’t feel like something better would present itself if I just looked harder.

The house and the dog have worked out just fine.

This weekend, I searched for a picture frame. Among all the decisions we make on a given day, that's a tiny one. But it was a gift, and if I wanted to put the photo in a forgettable wood or silver frame, I could just leave that to the recipient, right?

Off I went to World Market. No luck. Then TJ Maxx, which usually has nice frames. Also no luck. Then Marshalls, where I found almost the right frame. It was pale blue leather, but it had a white flower on it. Very small and simple. I asked a girl carrying a cute purse, “If you were a guy, how much would this flower bother you?” She said, “A lot. My husband wouldn’t like that.” I love when a stranger will tell you the truth.

After staying another half hour and deliberating about other frames, I found nothing that suited the photo. The problems with the others: too ornate, too plain, cheaply made, wrong color. And the worst ones became the focal point rather than the complement to the photo. I almost bought two frames as possible defaults, but I think the buy-and-return strategy is a waste of time. So, dejected, I headed to Target.

And found the perfect frame. Nice color, good style, and most importantly, it suited the tone and scale of the photo. I wrapped it up in recycled calendar paper and admired my handiwork.

Even though it wasn't a life-changing experience, I'm happy that I overanalyzed to find the perfect gift. And you never know how those small decisions will have an impact on the bigger ones.