Monday, February 23, 2009

Organization..I hate that "O" word!

Why can't it just happen? Why can't things just make their way to their own special place, without my help? I need to get organized...but it's not my strong suit, and I'm not particularly apt to forcing myself to find a home for these things that need their own place to be.

I have to admit that, in this my 6th decade of life, I have gotten better about putting things where they belong. I certainly spend far more time THINKING about where they'd be best put, anyway. It also helps to have a new, larger home, with a room dedicated to my craft items. (read between the lines and see that what I'm really saying is that this is one gigantic 'closet' where my craft items are, in all their disarray.) I actually use these items, but in a different room...either in front of some silly chic flick or court TV...or at the 5 foot square dining table.

Like another blogger, my surfaces tend to 'collect' piles of things....mail that has been sorted, read, and should then be filed either in the circular file or an actual cabinet made for the purpose, unread magazines with articles which are being saved for 'quiet' time, get the picture.
I've been known to repeat many times over the years that the surfaces in our home ought to be on a slant so that they can't hold anything!

I have to force myself to fold the laundry. I don't know why it's such a big chore, but I hate doing it. Good grief! The machines wash and dry them, why can't I fold them without such an effort. In reality, I just make more work for myself (ie: ironing!) because I don't do it immediately. I'll have to work on that.

One of my daughters always used to come home and say, "Mom, I'll help you get this organized if you want me to." No, I didn't want her to, thank you very much. I HATE for someone else to get into my stuff! They have a different idea of what's worth keeping and what isn't. Another of my girls says, "Mom, you have too much *x%t !" Maybe...but it's mine, so keep your mitts off!

When we got ready to move from that house to this one,9 states away, my packrat husband and this recycler/crafter/saver/ wife of his had to make some choices. We did clean out ...not that anyone else would notice, but we did! Still...we have too much. Other packrats, crafters and recyclers would understand us, but most people don't. There really are good uses for old mayonnaise jars and coffee cans! We put all of our dry pantry goods in the jars, and use the cans for nails, screws, etc for the shop area. By the way, a skein of yarn in a coffee can, with a hole for the strand of yarn in the plastic top, keeps the skein free to unravel as you will, rather than rolling around the floor . Oh well...some people will never understand that sort of thing.

Anyway, Spring is coming. I can feel it in the air. I can see it in the blooming Jonquils and hear it in the songs of the returning birds. And yes, I hear my heart scolding...'Get organized....get organized...get organized." I HATE that 'O' word!


Dreams are funny things...they come out of who-knows-where, and control themselves with little rhyme or reason.

Sometime in the dark hours of last night/this morning, I found myself in the LVIS thrift shop in East Hampton. I had found a suit...a red suit with a designer tag. I tried it on and it fit, but I needed a purse to match, so I went to the section where the pocketbooks were in search of the perfect bag. There on the shelf was a just-the-right color, just-the-perfect-sized clutch bag. It was rather heavy, so I found myself slinging the strap over my shoulder. (note that clutch type purses don't HAVE straps!) I next found myself, outside the store, with the purse, but not the suit.

Before I could figure out what was happening, I was at the home of a friend who lives in Florida. I've never visited this place, her new home, but I understand it's quite a show piece. In the dream, Marie's house was an estate, a huge and preposterous place. I was there, working as a babysitter! There was a sporty,red car in the driveway that was supposedly mine and in it was the red purse. Apparently I'd discovered, at some point, the reason for it being so heavy. It was full with personal items, wallet, money, and the usual stuff women deem necessary to carry everywhere.

Throughout the dream I was plagued with the idea that I must get this purse back to its rightful owner. And then the thought came to me that my own bag was among the missing. Oh no! I'd have to go through replacing all of the identification papers, I might lose my checkbook and money to whomever had it now. I was being tortured in my sleep! Finally I spoke to Marie's husband and told him that I must get that red clutch purse back to it's owner. He made arrangements, and as luck would have it, when I returned the red purse, I automatically received my own, with no problems.

That's when I awoke. I am not one who believes much in 'dream interpretations', but this time I knew the feeling that 'when you do the right thing, you will be rewarded.'