Daily Archives: March 26, 2008

Alphabet Soup of Who or What I’m Not

A is for Attorney. Although I am not an attorney, I had plans to become one. My dad noticed my talent at giving people the third degree, and affectionately called me the “County Persecutor.” I thought this meant I should become an attorney, so planned to do so all throughout junior high and half of high school. Then I came to my senses.

B is for Blonde. Although my driver’s license says I have blonde hair, it’s really more of a brown color. Some of it turns blonde during the summer if I’m in the sun a lot, but I’m really not blonde. Wonder how that description got on there. Is someone else filling out this info? I just looked at the weight listed on there, and it seems to be off by a few pounds too. Hmmm.

C is for Computer Whiz. Back in the ancient days at my secretarial job, we got this neat new gadget called a “Word Processor.” It was cool! Way neater than the typewriter! But, this high tech tool required 40 hours of training on it. I was SO with it back then, it only took me 24 hours! But, now, I don’t have to be a computer whiz. Why? Cause I have KIDS! They have brain parts that make everything computer-related obvious and simple, so I just ask them.

D is for Difficult to Understand. I grew up in the heartland of the USA, where we have NO accent (ha ha). I believed that those in the south, the northeast, the southwest, the north, etc., had little speech quirks that made it easy to tell where they were from. And although I can tell if someone is from Boston, Alabama, Michigan, or Virginia, I realize that we midwesterners have a few little quirks of our own.

E is for Elegant. Oh I wish I were elegant, and perhaps I have a few little elegant elements, but when I think of Elegant, I think of beautiful clothing (which apparently doesn’t include jeans and running shoes), tall (5’3″ doesn’t qualify), and regal (I usually have some kind of food on my shoulder, thanks to my little guy). So, while I’m a lot of other things, I don’t really think I am elegant.

Unless I break this post into parts, I will be here all day writing. So, I’ll continue this on another post. Bet you can’t wait!

My FlyLady Phase

Marla Cilley, AKA The FlyLady, has a wonderful website, full of encouragement on keeping house, decluttering, loving your family, and loving yourself. She offers daily emails to help you take control of your laundry, hot spots (clutter spots), dinner plans, and housecleaning. There are clever names, like “5 Minute Room Rescue” and “Weekly Home Blessing Hour.” You can check her out at http://www.flylady.com. Somehow, I heard about this lady and jumped right on the FlyLady bandwagon, drinking in those daily emails, thinking there was someone out there who UNDERSTANDS and was ON MY SIDE in trying to keep track of all the details of running a home.

One of her cute titles has to do with clutter: “The 27-Fling Boogie.” You are supposed to take a trashbag, walk through your house, and pick up 27 things you can throw away right now. I was able to do this, like, once. After that, I became effectively paralyzed as all my anti-de-cluttering mental recordings turned themselves up LOUD in order to be heard.

“You may NEED that some day and you won’t HAVE it anymore.”

“Your CHILD made that, for crying out loud. HOW could you even THINK about throwing it AWAY?”

“Your MOTHER gave you that, for crying out loud. HOW could you even THINK about throwing it AWAY? Don’t you LOVE her?”

“You can’t throw THAT away. It’s from that SPECIAL EVENT that you attended when that SPECIAL THING happened! What are you THINKing?”

“You know you will throw that away and then wish NEXT WEEK you had it!”

“Remember that thing you threw away 15 years ago and wished you had later? That will probably happen again if you throw anything away. Beware!”

“It’s perfectly good and can certainly be used or fixed.”

“Ooo. That might be worth some MONEY. You better keep it.”

“They just don’t make ’em like this anymore. You’ll never be able to get another one as good as this.”

“That cost WAAAAY too much money to get rid of.”

“No, it doesn’t matter that you don’t like it anymore. It cost WAAAAY too much money to get rid of.”

“Someday my children will want to read this letter from my friend.”

“I know they never knew her, but it will be meaningful to them just because it belonged to me.”

“So I can’t throw it away, or any of the other 100 letters from this friend.”

By the time I experience the slings and darts of these accusations, I drop my trash bag, slump my shoulders in defeat, and trudge back up the stairs, convinced I will never get rid of anything as long as I live.

In the meantime, FlyLady’s encouraging emails start to get annoying, so I switch to “daily digest” and then finally, “no email.”

In this phase, I have bravely gotten rid of about 8 ounces of clutter, mostly papers that I could trash because I don’t need them anymore.

Somehow, I don’t think that is what FlyLady is envisioning when she talks about “decluttering” your house. Sigh. How will I ever get rid of this junk?