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Last week at dinner, my husband and our daughter, Serenity, mentioned that I seem kind of stressed about life right now. I stopped munching on my crab rangoon and shook my head. “Oh, I’m going to be fine now. I just spent 88 cents at Wal-Mart for a magnetic to-do list.”

They both burst out laughing, but I just raised my eyebrows. “It’s true,” I said. “This is going to change my life.”

And, it has. Serenity understood, of course. It is simply the grown-up version of the hoola-hoop method I taught her in childhood. She used to go upstairs to clean her room and then decide it would be easier if she moved furniture first. An hour later, we would find her weeping on her bed – which was now in the middle of the room – surrounded by mounds of stuffed animals, old school papers, and a dresser skewed sideways.

Eventually, I taught Serenity to throw her hula-hoop on the floor. Then I told her to clean up or put away everything within its circumference. Don’t worry about the mess in the corner. Don’t wonder if the bed would look better against the other wall. Just focus on the hoola-hoop. When that is done, toss it again.

So, now, I’m corralling my three computers, two electronic calendars, one supposed-to-be-smart telephone and a few zillion details that exist only in the shadows of my mind. Every night before bed, I consult them. Then, I take my 88 cent pad from the front of the fridge, and I list the five things I absolutely must do the next day. That’s all. Just those five. I rip off the page after breakfast the next day and stick it in my purse.

Then, when phones start ringing and reminders start buzzing and emails begin screaming, I just look at my list. If those five things aren’t crossed off yet, I simply say, “Sorry, I’m not moving the bed today.”

It’s been worth every one of those 88 cents.