Why is it that I can’t stay organized all the time? I’m a much happier person when I can find my keys, sunglasses and cell phone easily.
Organization is my weakness. I start out with good intentions, and then life happens. I mean to get up early and do a load of laundry, but then the baby wakes up 2-3 times with aching gums, and I choose to get a little more sleep instead. I. Really. Like. Sleep.
Then there’s my car. Oh Lord, my car. It’s embarrassingly messy most days. What does that say about me? Does it say that I don’t care? That I’m lazy? I’d like to think not, but that’s probably the impression it gives. I’d like to go on the record by saying “I’m not lazy, and I do care, dagnabbit!”
I have friends who make it all look so easy (and you know who you are). Their pantry is always stocked, their nails are decent if not manicured, and they never forget a birthday/anniversary/commercially produced holiday.
Sometimes I wonder if I struggle with organization because I’m afraid of losing my creative edge. I’ve always lived–and thrived–in an environment of chaos, mostly not of my own creation. I’ve been able to extract the rich, thick, sweet marrow out of the bones of destruction, and I’m afraid the bones of tidiness would leave little to feed on.