It's not pretty inside this head. My thought train jumps tracks, derails and ignores signals. When I was pregnant with Abby I put the peanut butter on the ironing board and the starch in the refrigerator. Do you know what's weird about that? The peanut butter goes in the pantry.
Each morning I make a list of the things I need to accomplish that day. Things I do everyday go on the list. Things I do once a week go on the list. I will forget to do them if they are not neatly printed out. I've learned to work around my inability to focus for long. In college I underlined the words in the textbooks as I read so I wouldn't get distracted.... almost like tying my brain to the page via my pen. I also learned to recopy my notes immediately after class so my shorthand would still be fresh. Otherwise those abbreviations could have stood for a variety of words and I would have been completely confused.
Ironically, as cluttered and scattered as it sometimes, okay, most of the time, is inside my head, I like to have my physical space neatly ordered. I actually like when everything is in its place. A roomful of clutter and mess overwhelms me. Where to start? What should I do first? Pick up the toys or put away the shoes? Stack the books or the pillows? Put the socks away or take the glasses to the sink? For some reason it takes me further off track into a land of jittery grumpiness. A room with a bare floor, books put away neatly on the shelves, counters bare of junk calms me.
Luckily I married an organized person. Our budget is in the spreadsheet, our bills are neatly filed and he doesn't mind taking care of the mess and the clutter while I stick to the big chores like vacuuming and bathroom cleaning. And now my mind has wandered away again... is it waffles or pancakes I smell?
Sparkly Street Family Update.
8 years ago
6 comments:
I am confirmed again in my very firm belief that we are related -
though I am not sure that even my living space would be decluttered enough by your standards!
It's pancakes - we are having them here for sinday brunch. With bacon, real maple syrup and bana slices. Feel free to join us, there is plenty to share.
My man is all about lists and neatness. You should see his shed. Needless to say I drive him nuts with my slapdash ways. Is that what happens with your version of Mister Organised and Little Miss Scatty?
I don't mind a bit of clutter myself, I feel panicked in a too tidy house, although I do like a spot for everything, I have to admit, and the budget and the bills... I'd love a bit of that...
My mind is a little like a hard disk that hasn't been defragmented for like two years. Or maybe five.
It races around trying to tie all the little bits of information that have been filed all over the place.
Every now and again I have an a ha! moment where the fragments all tie together only to be lost because I didn't have a pen handy.
I need a personal assistant with a pen and a dictaphone handy at all times.
I thought about getting Melinda a personal assistant, but she would just misplace her.
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