I have never been an organized person. In high school, I my friends said I was always just a “shit-storm of papers and crap” and called me Pig Pen. I remember turning in my math homework one time on an Arby’s napkin because I lost all my looseleaf paper. Other times, I’d just be late to class because I misplaced the gum wrapper I wrote my locker combination so I’d be stranded without all my books.
Now, as a 32-year-old, sadly, I haven’t gotten much better. It always seems like the papers I need (important stuff like social security cards, birth certificates, and car registrations) are never around when I need them, but will turn up when I’m doing things like cleaning out the canned good cabinet or hauling out my winter sweaters. Seriously, for months I couldn’t find my driver’s license and then I finally found it: stuffed in a BIBLE. What? I can’t even begin to understand my rationale for that one. Whereas when I was a kid, my school backpack was catch-all for all my junk, now my purse is a grab-bag of eclectism. Too bad Let’s Make a Deal isn’t on because I would have KILLED at “What’s in your Purse?”
So the one thing that keeps me relatively sane are my To-Do lists. They are the one piece of order I can muster in my chaotic, unorganized existence. In fact, I love putting things on the list just so I can check them off. I feel empowered and responsible when I cross off such items like “buy toilet paper” and “nap.” Truly, they are the only thing that keep my life even somewhat settled. For this I am very grateful!
Grey and I have never had a cleaning lady before, but we finally broke down. I’ve always been able to stay on top of the house chores no problem, and actually, felt almost too proud to hire someone to help me.
However, lately I’ve realized, as I watch Ollie stash Cheerios in the heating vents and dump the contents of his bottle into the DVD player, I need some assistance staying on top of this mess. Not that I work full time, but even writing my column for Washington Life, keeps me busy enough that I’ve had to turn a blind eye to the pig pen we call home. Not to mention the fact that we’re moving and I’m sure prospective buyers wouldn’t look kindly upon hardwood floor that are as sticky as fly paper. Yeah, something tells me that won’t help resale value.
So we hired Monica to come in and tidy up the place. I thought she’d be done in an hour or two since we live in a cozy little townhouse, but no. Monica and her co-worker arrived at 2pm and the two of them cleaned straight through until 7pm! Five hours — of two people cleaning! Either we are even more disgusting hogs than I thought — and our house is just that dirty — or else they are REALLY thorough!
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