Your real and metaphorical keys, phone, and wallet

If you’re still with me, congratulations, because shit is about to get REAL. I’m going to show you three tools for getting your shit together—and as I said, it may surprise you to learn that you already have them in your possession.

You see, I have a theory that “getting your shit together”—metaphorically speaking—is like keeping track of your keys, phone, and wallet. With each of these three little things, you can do a bigger thing, such as unlock your house or order Chinese food or buy a bus ticket. They are essential life accessories. So whenever somebody tells me they’ve lost one or more of these items, I always think, Seriously, get your shit together.

But in case you thought the air was getting a little too thin up here on my soapbox, let me tell you a story.

Picture it: A mall in southern New Hampshire, 1990. Two twelve-year-old girls, footloose and fancy free, visions of Guess? Jeans and Orange Julius dancing in their preteen heads.

I’d been dropped off with my friend Emily and all of my birthday and Christmas spoils ready to spend. I didn’t have a lot of money growing up, and with my birthday falling in December, the end of the year always felt like hitting the lottery. This was a Big Day. I had probably sixty dollars and a few gift cards stowed away in a hideous embroidered purse that sort of puckered at the top when you pulled its dangly strings. It was purple and black and yellow and turquoise and looked like the upholstery in a Santa Fe dentist’s office. I don’t know, it was the nineties, what can I say?

Anyway, I was in a dressing room at Express when I realized… I no longer had my hideous purse.

I proceeded to lose my shit.

I mean, first I had literally lost my shit, and now I was figuratively losing it. My stomach fell like an elevator with its cables cut. I saw black spots at the edge of my vision and I remember not being able to speak for at least a minute. (Actually, now that I think about it—that was probably Baby’s first panic attack.)

To her eternal credit, Emily took charge. The plan was to retrace our steps through the mall and hope to all that was good and holy that either we would find my bag—with its contents intact—or someone would eventually turn it in to the Lost & Found. Was there even a Lost & Found? I didn’t know and I didn’t want to have to find out.

We scoured that mall for a good forty-five minutes, hopping from the JCPenney entrance to the food court, to Claire’s Boutique and the dreamcatcher kiosk, to the Yankee Candle shop with its discounted holiday votives, then over to the Gap, me getting more panicky by the minute. As I hyperventilated my way into Spencer Gifts—that beacon of whoopee cushions and raunchy coffee mugs—I spotted my purse sitting quietly on the floor. Right where I’d left it while sifting through the X-rated greeting card display.

Maybe my bag was so ugly nobody wanted it (or thought it could possibly contain anything of value). Maybe its lurid colors blended into the swirly carpet pattern and nobody even saw it while it sat there for an hour. All I know is, I thanked my lucky stars and I never lost a purse again. Or a wallet or a set of keys, for that matter.^*

You may be thinking What does any of this have to do with anything? And what’s a “mall”? Is that like Amazon for old people?

Please bear with me for another page or two, Counselor. I believe I have a very enlightening point to make about your real and metaphorical keys, phone, and wallet.

But first, some real talk.

There is no excuse not to keep track of your house keys. They are the KEYS to your HOUSE. Knowing where they are should be a priority on par with remembering to get dressed before leaving your house. If you’ve ever waited for a locksmith wearing nothing but a hand towel and a nervous smile, you know what I’m talking about.

Same with your phone. Unless you took a hot tub time machine back to 1993, you have a cellular device that controls the vast majority of your life: calendars, contacts, emails, and that infernal Facebook messenger app. I bet it was an expensive piece of equipment, too, so maybe you ought to be more careful with it than you would be with an old stick of gum. Only one of those things won’t cost you $500 if it falls out of your pocket in the back of a cab.

Then there’s your wallet. It contains not only cash, but your ATM, credit, and health insurance cards; driver’s license; maybe a work ID and gym membership; and (one hopes) a perfectly good condom. If you lose your wallet you will have to replace all of the shit in it, and somebody might get pregnant.

IT’S NOT WORTH IT.
GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER.

And guess what? If you can manage to stay on top of those three little life management tools, you can use them to get your metaphorical shit together too.

Remember when I talked about strategy, focus, and commitment? That was no coincidence, Grasshopper.

• Your keys are the ability to strategize—they unlock the next steps.

• Your phone is the ability to focus—make those calls, mark that calendar.

• Your wallet represents commitment—this is when you put your real or metaphorical money where your mouth is, to follow through on your plan. (Just don’t let yourself get overdrawn at the real or metaphorical bank.)

For what it’s worth, I believe in you! I think you can keep track of your keys, phone, and wallet. You can learn to strategize; having a good strategy in place will enable you to focus; and mastering those skills will make it easier to finally commit to your goals.

Why do I have such blind faith in a person I’ve probably never met? Because humans invented fire, mapped the Arctic Circle, and created hologram Tupac. We didn’t do any of that shit without a plan! You’re a born strategizer; you just need to dust off the natural ability that’s been hiding under all your mental clutter. It’s far more valuable than the old chamber pot your aunt Sharon took on Antiques Roadshow, and they gave her like four hundred bucks for that.