Second Floor Rule

The rule is this:
If I live alone on the second floor, I can only make one trip, whether coming or going.

Although I just "discovered" this rule today, I've actually been abiding by it for the past month and a half. Usually, I'm completely loaded up with stuff (why do we always say "loaded down"? I refuse...): backpack, purse, water bottle, oversized binder that doesn't fit in the backpack, leaky travel mug with coffee, keys. Add to that image the burden the occasional mornings that I need to take out the trash, and you get a picture of my hardcore fundamentalism. But I have not wavered!

I have adjusted, however. My Weekday Missal and October issue of Magnificat have their own shelf--the passenger seat of my car! One of my sweatshirts "belongs" in the back seat--I always need more layers, now that October is here and they've turned on the A/C at school.... =b Two six-packs of coke sit in my natural refrigerator--the trunk. My laundry detergent is there, too, since I'll have driven to Sharon's house when I next need it. I also keep my sleeping bag in there (just in cases!) and my bike rack (because it doesn't fit anywhere else!)
So yes, part of my life remains in my car. But that's just a necessary corollary to the Second Floor Rule.

Of course, this rule does not limit the number of times a person can set something down. I tend to set things down several times before the final "drop," especially coming home.

Get out of the car with and grab all my junk.
1 Set something down to lock the car doors and close them.
Walk to the outside stairs.
2 Set something down to check the mailbox.
Climb the stairs.
3 Set something down to unlock the door.
Enter the apartment.
4 Set something down to twist-pull-wrench keys out of the door, close it, and lock it again.
Kick off shoes and walk up the hallway.
5 Set something down to unlock the bedroom door.
Enter the room, and ...DROP

(Yes, I do pick everything up again as I go. Except that later, I usually have to look for my keys for about ten minutes before finding them in the bedroom door.)

Someday, this rule will reveal itself as a useful discipline. Since it's not exactly time-efficient, though, I cannot imagine what the utility will be.

I just keep on following the directions shouted at me by the obsessive murmurings of my brain:
ONE TRIP! ONE TRIP! ONLY ONE TRIP ALLOWED!