Day 1.....or is it 2?

Hello Clutter Bugs! That's what I'm calling all you unfortunate people that are reading about my efforts to become at least a substandard version of a domestic goddess. Or at least someone that can find my cheque book. I dunno why I'm calling you that, I've just had this urge to give everyone nicknames lately. Its weird...but there you have it. Welcome to the wonder of me!

So I read some absolutely terrible advice yesterday as I gearing up to start this adventure of getting organized and decluttered. Some lady, who I'm sure has never had an unorganized junk drawer, said to start with the thing that bugs you the most. Then once that thing is cleaned up you'll feel motivated to keep going. Sounds great! Sounds positive! Makes total sense!

For the love of all that is holy do not! whatever you do! do not start with that thing! That thing that bugs you the most bugs you because you can't do a damn thing about it! If you could (whether that be in reality or in that cavernous head of yours....well mine.. full of self doubt, fear of failure and still licking the wounds of choosing the wrong motivational partners) you would have already done something about that blasted thing that drives you the most crazy!

My said thing is laundry. I hate laundry with the passion of a thousand suns. It is the absolute worst. Its not washing it. Its not drying it. Its only kind of putting it on hangers and folding it. But what I truly hate is when I have to put it away. Let me tell you why. I DON'T HAVE A PLACE TO PUT THE FUCKING STUFF!!! Now, before you say that I need to purge clothes so I have somewhere to put it. Its not that I don't have the SPACE to put it. Its that I have weird stuff and I don't know where to put it. I'm talking swimsuits and blankets and towels that are long past their new date but are still usable and extra pillows and robes and swaddling blankets and burp cloths and blankets that were given to us by a special person but that we don't use and stuffed animals that my kids won't miss until they see it and clothes that are perfectly good if they didn't have holes in them and winter jackets and slips and pantyhose, and socks that I havent had a match for in 10 years but one day I swear its going to turn up. Let's revisit that I am the QUEEN of forming sentimental bonds and what if stories. So put all that together and what do you get? MOUNDS of laundry that I cannot put away so it just sits in a basket until I've decided that I've lost my mind again and am going to get control of the laundry situation. I have not had my laundry completely done in 10 years. That's TEN fucking years of it hanging over my head. It is the bane of my existence, as my mother put it today. So all I needed to do today was put away three baskets of laundry. And I came up with one carefully crafted excuse after another and became paralyzed the entire day - not doing the laundry or anything else.

So I've determined that starting with the thing that bugs you the most is about the shittiest advice I've ever heard. I think tomorrow I'll try again with the baskets of laundry but my goal is to get rid of all the recipe books I haven't used in the 16 years I've had them. That I can wrap my head around. I'm declaring today a wash. Didn't get a damn thing done but learned a lot about following domestic diva's advice.

Motivational Partners

When it comes to motivation to declutter an entire house you have to choose wisely.

Hell, no you don't.

You're fucking decluttering your ENTIRE HOUSE. In my case that's two grown adults who brought into a marriage two grown assed adult live's worth of stuff. Then more stuff that we accumulated together (read....lived too close to Ikea). Then 10+ years of kid stuff. I literally still have baby burp cloths and dude is gonna be 10 here pretty soon. I need every fucking ounce of motivation I can find.

That being said, however, I highly suggest you don't choose two shit for brains dogs. Apparently, if you try to get motivated by talking it through with my dogs it confuses them. And when they're confused, they get nervous..which baffles me because they seem to always be confused. And once they're nervous I get nervous. And in my head I start to doubt myself. Yes. Seriously. My dumb ass dogs made me doubt myself.

So, moral of the story? Choose your motivation wisely.

I'll start a blog!!!

Have you read The Martian by Andy Weir? If not, you totally should. Its seriously a really good book. Today I am identifying with the main character.

"I am fucked.

That's my considered opinion.

Fuck."

(Oh, I should have warned you. This blog is definitely not kid friendly).

So this morning I went in to check in with dude's teacher because we've been having some meltdown problems at home. Turns out he's having some organizational problems. Four days into school and he's having organizational problems. Not a big deal, right? Easily fixable with folders and pencil cases and sticky notes, and a really cute cricut label (because why the hell not? I love pinterest as much as the next sahm). Easy peasy, mac and cheesy! Except it's totally not. I am not the organized goddess that, from what I can tell, every single one of my friends and family members are. I'm nowhere close to organized. I'd go so far as to say I'm downright unorganized and if I'm honest, I'm even messy. I looked for 4 hours yesterday for the chequebook and a half an hour for my wallet! I wish that was the exception rather than the norm. But normal it is! You better hope I never put anything of yours in my safe place, because I swear to God, that safe place is in the bowels of the balrog. Once it goes into said safe place it doesn't come out for a good year or two. So dude is having organizational problems. I wanted to melt into the floor because I KNOW exactly whose fault that is.

Now, I know there's a reason for it. There's a ton of reasons for it actually. This family is awesome if you're looking for someone to come up with a "what if I need it for blah" story. We tend to take our downtime pretty seriously. We all have things we have a tiny bit of unhealthy attachments to things. And that's just the start!

I struggle with my health, both mentally and physically. I hurt all the fucking time. I'm always feeling overwhelmed. I am awesome at deluding myself that the disorganization is not that bad. And straight up, I'm not sure I was done having kids when I decided I was done having kids. So letting go of baby and kids stuff is damn near impossible.

So what's the result? We live in a house. That house has stuff in it. It has rather a lot of stuff in it. It has way too much stuff in it. And something.has.to.change.

How the hell does this change? I keep walking into my kitchen thinking it's a good place to start. Hoo boy! Walk away walk away walk away!!!! Living room? Dear God woman! Are you insane?! (Actually yes, but that's another post). Definitely not the hall. Not even under consideration. Definitely not the office. The master bedroom? .....maybe? Oh! I could purge more from the kids room that I just purged and redecorated. Oh right, emotional attachments.

So......yeah. In my considered opinion I am fucked.
Oh! I know! I'll start a blog!