It’s back to school time and while I don’t consider this a Mommy Blog, it is a blog written by a mom, so it seems like I should at least mention it. Back to school isn’t something that I necessarily dread. Brody doesn’t mind school all that much and we’re insanely lucky that he’s had great teachers every year. Justin is really finding his groove in the world of teaching and thankfully is done with college classes for the foreseeable future. Even the carpool line only drives me completely nuts maybe once or twice a week. No, the school part of back to school is fine, but it always seems to highlight one thing about myself that I don’t care much for.
I am not an organized person. Like, at all. Not even a little bit. Not in any aspect of my life.
My check book is barely balanced. My desk is a mess at work. My purse could star in its own horror movie. For once, my car is in decent shape, but I would be lying if I tried to act like a stray water bottle hadn’t rolled out when I opened a door. Or two. Or maybe three. And if you don’t live in my house and try to show up without at least 24 hours notice, then I hope you enjoy your time on my front porch because there’s no way you’re getting in here. Trust me, it’s better for all of us.
It’s not that I want to be like this. I actually long to be neat and organized, but I’ve yet to find a way to make it happen. At this point, you organized point people are wondering what the problem is. And I would love to be able to tell you. I really would. I try. I buy the cleaning supplies, the binders, the hangers, the laundry organizers… the whole nine yards. But at this point, I think it’s some sort of chemical imbalance. (Is that possible? Maybe?)
It doesn’t help that the other two people who live here are just as disorganized and messy. Brody may have a Sheldon Cooperesque memory, but there’s none of the cleanliness there. He’s basically a borderline hoarder. We’re not filthy people by any means, everything in the house is clean. It’s just… everywhere. All of us are horrible about walking in the house, dropping something on the couch and leaving it there until we need it a month later. Brody’s a kid. He has an excuse. But Justin and I are adults. Or at least we’re supposed to be.
So, my question: Is there any hope? Or do I just call it quits and try to live happily in my hovel? I’m starting to think that’s where we’re at. I took a day off last week to address the problem, but I guess I saw something shiny and got distracted because at the end of the day I had one pitifully organized cabinet and Netflix asking if I wanted to continue watching Stranger Things.
I feel like it’s got to be a time management thing and if that’s the case, then I’m really in trouble. Because if there’s one thing I’m worse at organizing than my laundry room, it’s my time.
But if you’ve got tips, I’m all ears. I’m not quite ready to throw in the towel on the organization thing just yet. Mostly because I can’t find the towel. Like I said, the laundry room is a mess.