STYLE Savvy: A Little Askew

Lisa Hess tries to figure out why fixing crooked wall décor is such a big deal, and ponders how those little tasks require more of us than we expect.

There’s a piece of artwork on the wall in my family room that has been crooked for weeks now. I see it every night, yet I haven’t managed to take the ten seconds it will take to correct it. In part this is because while the act itself will take ten seconds, accessing the item in question requires me to pull out a stepstool, drag it over, reach above the television, and set the piece right.  

Oh, and then I have to put the stepstool away. 

None of this is difficult and yet ... the piece is still crooked. 

Why Is This a Big Deal? 

Perhaps you think I'm incredibly lazy; sadly, I have zero evidence to rebut that hypothesis. Perhaps you're feeling a bit more kindly toward me and assume I'm too tired to do it —- but 24/7? Or maybe you're really giving me the benefit of the doubt and you've decided that I've grown to like the piece's crookedness, that it somehow adds panache or character to the wall and, by extension, to the room it's in. 

That's really lovely of you. Thank you.  

Why is it that we put off doing seemingly simple things? The artwork of which I speak (created by my daughter in middle school, by the way) is only one example of several things in this house that would take me one minute or less to set right and yet they remain right where they are. 

A Scientific Connection? 

I'm not a scientist, but I kind of like Newton's First Law of Motion as a fancy-schmancy explanation here: an object at rest remains at rest ... unless acted on by an unbalanced force. 

Yes, I had to look that up. And no, I don't know what an unbalanced force is in scientific terms. (If you do, feel free to share it in the comments). 

I have a pretty good idea of what an unbalanced force is in organizing terms, though. It’s that set of circumstances that stands between us and a seemingly simple task. Finding the motivation. Finding the proper tools. Finding the right home for whatever’s askew, out of place, or in that mystery pile.  

All the little things that make a simple task feel incredibly not simple. 

Unbalanced.  

How Do We Restore Balance? 

For some tasks, like my tilted artwork, it’s necessary to do everything in one sitting in order for the problem to be solved. Noticing the problem. Getting the right tools. Correcting the problem. 

But other times, we don’t need to everything at once. We can simply take one small step in the right direction, setting ourselves up to complete the task in stages. Breaking a large or complex task into smaller pieces makes it less onerous, and more likely that we’ll actually accomplish it. And, because getting started is often the hardest part, taking one step in the right direction can boost our reluctant motivation and nudge us to the finish line, all in one energized sprint. 

Which brings me back to that piece of artwork. Simply writing the first draft of this post leveraged another key tool — imagined peer pressure — and sent me in pursuit of the stepstool. I’m happy to report that I righted the artwork, put the stool away, and enjoyed the fruits of my labor. 

For about ten minutes. 

Again? 

Which brings me to my final obstacle. Doing something once — whether it’s setting a piece of art right or decluttering a space — doesn’t mean it’s fixed forever. Having that little piece of information in the back of our minds creates an additional organizational unbalanced force. When we know that every dish we wash or pile we clear will be replaced by another, it makes it hard to find the motivation to do the thing in the first place.  

Fortunately, “doing the thing” yields rewards of its own, perhaps in the form of something that’s no longer crooked or, (better yet, in my opinion), a lovely vista of clear space. But, in the end, only you can decide the best way to restore balance.  

As for me and my crooked artwork, I’m almost beginning to like it a little askew. 

Almost. 

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Copyright 2025 Lisa Hess
Images: Canva