You may already know that I’m a third generation engineer, and half of the forth generation has proudly proclaimed that he will follow in our footsteps.
The hallmark of a true engineer, as opposed to someone with an engineering degree or who manages engineers, is that, while they accept that little annoyances will always exist, they routinely annoy their acquaintances by fixing them. (The annoyances, that is. True engineers often lack the social skills required to fix a person, and are sometimes smart enough to know it.) That’s one of the things that attracted me to my husband. His house was filled with little things that worked. Squeaky doors were oiled. The door the dog used had a weight that closed it — not too fast, not too slow, and it worked reliably. The furniture was solid, as were the few repairs that had been needed over the years. Opa might not have been able to do the math for a degree, but he’s one of those I always hoped to find on a workterm, someone who knew where the screwdrivers were and never quite figured out why others didn’t think this information important.
Yesterday I was organizing a year’s worth of podcast backissues, to feed my addiction. My player doesn’t sort files well. I use sub-directories to organize them and help me listen to them in order. You guessed it, I created 12 folders per year, and 0 to 4 folders within each of them, depending on how many episodes were created that month. The goal is between 2 and 10 choices at each level.
Today I started the annual camera download, in preparation for the Christmas calendar. I have this unreasonable fear that if I don’t check all the pictures on all three cameras I’ll miss the perfect picture and horrid things will happen. Once again, organizing by date was quick, easy, and useful.
So, being an engineer, I’ve now created a template. It’s a folder, labeled 2009 (yeah, I know, bad timing) and containing 12 properly labeled folders.