In the battle to maintain some semblance of domestic serenity, I find staunch denial a most effective tool. Ergo, I've mastered the art of selective blindness. If I don't see it, it's not messy. It probably explains a lot about my house in general to my extended family to disclose this piece of information.
However, as I have aged, I have found despite my best intentions, my eyesight is improving. I can't not see some things. As a result, I have had to resort to other equally effective but willful actions to prevent the dust bunnies from swarming and causing permanent despair. I yield these tips with the caveat that they will not keep you sane, but they will make the madness you embrace significantly happier.
10) Tell your appliances your expectations. Then remind them that you have the number to 1800Got Junk if they start acting up.
9) Declare Laundry Amnesty for three days. Yes your pile will be huge when you get to it, but honestly, those 72 hours will feel really nice. Repeat after me, "I am the Queen of Egypt. I live on Denial." Then order dinner.
8) Initiate a phone tree application when your children come to report that soandso said I couldn't play and so soandso is a stinky meanie pig head. "For homework help, press 1. For requests for snack, press 2, special projects or attire, press 3, tattling 4..." and have hold music at the ready.
7)When encountering an unexpected mound of trash or dishes, adopt a silent film persona. "So...We meet again Vile Pile...." or alternatively, become the villain and laugh "Muhahahahahahahaha!" as you turn on the disposal.
6) Dust off your robot 80's dance. Make lunches in your best retro fashion. Again, a soundtrack is useful but not necessary. Working in silence does however, keep your kids off balance and that's part of the appeal.
5) Hold a Burial service for all those non working machines in your home that you stubbornly forget to throw away. Let your children play taps. Toss them one at a time, maybe say a few works and feel the intense satisfaction of knowing, the vacuum that quits within five minutes of being plugged in and that always works perfectly when you take it to the shop, shall plague you no longer.
4) Pick a memorable date on the calendar. On this day, sort all the socks. Throw away all those that cannot find a mate. Their time of dating in your household, is over. They're spinsters. They're done.
I use Mardi Gras.Tax day works too.
3) Practice unleashing your mutant powers to make the piles of toys clean up themselves. Alternatively, wave your magic wand and order the room to clean itself. Complain about the unfairness of a lack of radioactive creatures running around to bite you and infuse your blood stream with superhero-ness and your own muggle status. Then don a cape and set the timer. If you can't actually have powers, you might as well enjoy pretending. Growl, "I'm Batgirl."
2) Pay yourself. "Sherry, there are 20 dollars at Barnes and Noble waiting for you plus a Lindt Semi-Sweet Bar if you get the basement clean today." Sign that contract. Then enforce it.
1) Compose your to-do list in the form of a poem. You'll still make the list and you'll have satisfied the crazy art muse at the same time.
Wash the dishes, fold the clothes
Feed the children, put the shoes in rows.
Hang the coats and make the beds.
Wipe the sinks and write poetry instead.
Pay the bills. Unload the washer and restart.
It's not earth shattering, nor is it great art.
Prep for dinner and load the car for errands
Don't forget the dry cleaning or the calendar.
Then, if the dishes and laundry and house still seems too bad to manage, hold the phone overhead and declare....I will order Pizza if this floor is clean in 30 minutes and wonder....why it took you this long to think of this solution.
3 comments:
I like the ideas about sorting socks on tax day. I think we should all band together and send our socks directly to the IRS, too.
by Bill Foley
I aplogize that my comment does not apply to the article in question, but I have come across a paragraph that is one of the most beautiful things that I have ever read, and I want to disseminate it over the Internet.
Human Person and the Tabernacle
Paragraph from page 344 of Volume 1 of The Mystical Evolution in the Development and Vitality of the Church by Father Juan Arintero, O.P.
“One day, at the time of Communion, Blessed Mariana of Jesus, the Lily of Madrid, being unusually aware of her lowliness and unworthiness, said to her Lord: “My Lord, the tabernacle in which Thou art is much more clean and beautiful.” Christ answered her: “But it cannot love me.” “From this,” said the holy nun, I understood how much more Christ prefers to reside in our souls than in gold or silver or precious jewels which are inanimate creatures incapable of love.”
Bill. I published your comment, but far more effective than spaming other people's blogs about a serious topic that you care passionately about, why not write why this is significant today or important to you beyond the Res Ipsa Loquitur aspect (the thing speaks for itself).
Rose...you are brilliant.
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