Friday, March 18, 2016

Call the Housekeeper

My mother was a good housekeeper. I did not inherit this trait, but I'm still working on it. I excused myself when I had kids making messes as fast as I cleaned them up, but now I have no one to blame for the mess on my desk but me. 

It's funny how most of the house can look tidy, but one corner be in total disarray. The worst part is that it looks O. K. to me, until I start looking for something, then I see the pile of papers, the book, the bills, the letters and realize it is truly a mess.

The mess is not trash, it's just disorganized. I need to put things where they belong. I'm really not good at that. As long as I know what it is, I don't register that it's out of place. 

I wonder if my brain is as disorganized as my desk? Is this why I can't remember appointments? Is this why bills are overdue? Maybe if I put the physical things in order, the mental tasks will follow suit.

It's a trend worth pursuing. At least I'll get the desk cleaned up.

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