I seem to have alarmed a few of you. NOT PREGNANT. Just extraordinarily paranoid. And since my paranoia has been proven right once already, it's a thousand times worse than it was last time. That's ALL I was saying in the last entry.
Clear? Ok.
I am trying to whip the house into shape. We both really want to move, we want to know more about a few things before we commit. I won't go into detail. It will bore you. If we had to move now, we could, but money would be really, really tight for a while if a few extras didn't fall into our laps. There's a good chance they will, but we don't know yet. Most of it is up to Jeremy's employers.
The house needs whipped into shape anyway. We bought it intending to fix it up, and then a baby came, and I was juuust getting a few little projects done around the place when we found out about the second one. I turned into an apathetic *blog for almost the entirety of my pregnancy, and now I need to start doing stuff again. Extra stuff. Like touching up paint. And vacuuming (I hate cleaning floors; it's one of a couple of household tasks that get shamefully neglected around here, but our carpet hides it, so I get away with it, mostly).
(*I meant to write "blob," but I liked my typo too much to remove it. And I had to retype this note three times before I could write "blob" instead of "blog.")
This is difficult when I have to do two loads of laundry and three loads of dishes (no dishwasher) every day just to keep up. I do keep the house clean and picked up. Most days, if someone showed up on my front doorstep, I wouldn't be embarrassed by the state of the inside (unless it's a Monday; Mondays are the worst). But it just stays good enough.
It's still cluttered and disorganized. I am the worst organizer in the world. I start out well, and then get overwhelmed and start shoving things in random corners and drawers when I'm picking up, and that's how Very Logical Places are born. I think, "Oh, I need to put this in a Very Special Place! A place that I will remember later! A place that is... logical." And whoomp! There it goes, into the black hole.
I remember in middle school the teachers or administrators or whoever concocted this bizarre method of getting students to get homework turned in. They had this very specific system with a folder and a notebook for each class (or was it one giant binder? I think it was one giant binder). There were more details that I don't remember, but it was pretty elaborate. And a complete waste of time. Forcing someone else's organization system (YOU MUST HAVE RED FOLDERS FOR HISTORY! RED!) on a flake is like forcing a caveman to dance the Nutcracker around his bonfire. It's not going to be pretty, and someone will probably get hurt. I always did much better just cramming everything into one folder. It took me forever to find assignments, and I still lost a lot or forgot to do them, but The Binder of Doom was not the answer.
So, obvious answer: box up everything we possibly can and store it in the basement. I'm also getting rid of a bookshelf. But how do I keep the house ready for showing with Emmy drooling through the house and Grace leaving a trail of books and crayons everywhere she goes? Help?
No comments:
Post a Comment