I’m a big fan of the KISS (keep it simple, um, sweetie) method of solving problems, and I recently got yet another chance to flex my problem solving muscles in the spirit of KISS. The charm in the concept is that it forces us to look at things in a bare-bones way, eliminating the drama and any proverbial middlemen we may encounter.
This week I had to deal with a situation which was just as funny in hindsight as it was at the time. On Saturday I sought to continue my ongoing efforts to reorganize the house, and being the frenetic person that I am, I spent part of my day off tidying up and purging items we had no use for, this time in the bathroom–a daunting project to say the least, with toiletries and cleaning supplies that had lived in our house longer than I had.
I came to realize as I moved forward that many of the items were of the “not quite sure where to put this” ilk, and had ended up in the w.c. due to the fact that it simply contained more storage space than other areas of the house. During my adventures I ran across several packets of catnip with varying levels remaining, which gave me a chuckle because we have purchased (and not emptied) several packets of catnip in recent years, apparently oblivious to the wealth of nip that we had on hand.
The catnip didn’t fit into my scheme for the shelf, so I moved it down one shelf, proceeding to put some of our excess supplies, including toilet and facial tissue, on the shelf formerly occupied by the catnip. Naive person that I am, I thought nothing of it.
Fast forward to a few days later, and Art and I returned home to find a pile of white fluff and a cardboard tube just below where the spare roll of toilet tissue had been, the middle of which was occupied by a rather happy feline (not the original culprit, mind you, but a very willing accomplice). The roll on the dispenser remained untouched. At first glance, we couldn’t figure out what the problem might be, as our cats had never shredded toilet tissue before, not even as kittens.
While watching TV it suddenly dawned on me that the residual “essence of catnip” was to blame. The spare roll was the first one to be exposed to the former catnip shelf. Laughing to myself, I set out to find a solution that we all could live with.
Solution 1: Put the spare role of toilet tissue in a different location away from prying paws (no dice; it was soon located in its new home and subsequently dispatched with equal zeal. And before long, the current roll would also come under fire). Solution 2: Leave the spare roll in the cabinet until it was time to use it (not feasible; we don’t use it quickly enough to stop the siege from happening when we’re away at work). Solution 3: Close the bathroom door during the day (not really a good idea; the cat box is in the bathroom and our cats become unruly when their routines are disrupted). Solution 4: Get rid of the cats (just kidding). And so it went.
As I thought through and tried various solutions (including eventually solving the problem by–Eureka!–moving the toilet tissue to a different storage shelf), it struck me that the catnip/toilet tissue problem was much like any problem in life. It involved individuals (Myself, Art, Gov, Sam, Wesley and Brownie…well, mainly Me, Wesley and Brownie); it needed an expeditious solution that is convenient for all parties; and was best resolved by considering the options, perhaps trying them out, and picking the one that seemed to work the best.
Granted, most problems in life don’t deal with catnip, but if I can tackle this one, I felt I could tackle any problem if I viewed it through my KISS lens. And you can bet I’m more than prepared for the repercussions when the facial tissues need restocking.
Confessions of a Pollyanna 