On Tap from the Pub

Dan Mirolli

By Tom Field

Executive Summary:

Establishing some order is more necessary than optional.

Microsystems: a big deal

I’m taking the items out of the grocery story bag, placing them on the kitchen island countertop. I squish up the bags and step back out towards the truck for the next load. Hanging on the wall by the door connecting our garage with the washroom is a long, thin bag with pretty little flowers printed all over it. The tube-shape bag has openings at the top and the bottom, served by drawstrings and an elastic-like closure. I stuff the empty bags I have in my hand through the top. If I wanted a grocery store bag, I simply extract one from the bottom. Yes, like strung together sausage links, it’s an environmentally-friendly little system for those disposable bags, not to mention an easy step to include in the routine of putting your groceries away.

It’s a microsystem.

The bag reminds me: How many microsystems do I have? I’m aware of something else. I understand retirees better. As I get older, I like having even more order in my life; and depending on these little microsystems is not such a bad thing. This is why, I think, the retired guys I know have those fantastic garages, with everything in specific places, and where they know where to find everything from the often-used to the most random thingamajig. They’re mastering the microsystem. Sixty years of looking for that damn socket wrench, they’ve finally embraced the joy of knowing not only where the wrench is, but the 5/8-inch standard or 16mm metric socket, as well.

‘Twasn’t long ago, I’m sure I secretly mocked the practice. Having that much order in your life means you’re probably a dweeby, nerdy, anal-retentive type. God forbid I set something down in the wrong place. The opposite of the freewheeling, spontaneous, carefree sprit I would likely adore.

And then something happened. I became a parent. (Ok, so it has been awhile.) With more responsibility comes the need for more order. The scissors went from wherever they happened to be left last—to the room most likely to have other things that go with scissors, like tape—to the area or cabinet where we keep most office supplies—to a drawer with those items—to a divider in the drawer where cutting implements are separated from adhesive products, which are separated from note pads, separated from writing instruments, etc., etc.

This year, April 8 to be precise, I became a grandparent. Little micro-human Evie Taylor Ohl doesn’t know about all my microsystems, but she’s cares a great deal about them. When it’s time for feeding or a diaper change or a strapping-in to her stroller or car seat—oh yes, she cares.

I’m sure I’ll continue refining my microsystems. You can laugh at my little flowery disposable bag dispenser. But when you go look for the bottle warmer and it’s not where you thought it was…