I live in chaos. Our house is chaotic. It’s generally organised mayhem though and I know where most things are most of the time. I don’t enjoy living in chaos but I cant seem to control it. Sometimes though I need to know where things are for example yesterday I needed to know where the poster on evolution that came free with the paper last weekend was. I have plans, at some stage, to move the boy into his own room and I want to hang the poster on the wall. The plans to move the boy are not imminent nor did I have a burning need to increase my knowledge on evolution ( I don’t fully subscribe to the evolution theory but that’s another days post) but yesterday evening I needed to know where the poster was. The husband was out. I rang him. ” Where is the evolution poster for the boy’s room”. The husband knew I was collapsed on the couch and not redecorating and that were was no urgency in finding the poster. A person who didn’t realise how mental I am would’ve replied wondering what the urgency is. The husband didn’t. He told me that while he didn’t know exactly where it is he would find it upon his return. Panic averted.
Occasionally I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder where our passports are.Always at a time when I have absolutely no need for my passport. I have woken my husband at 3am to ask him location of our passports. He always answers. Is this some sort of reverse OCD or something? Anyway I know it’s not all that normal behaviour but the husband always answers me no matter how mental the question is.
I decided today I could no longer handle the piles of laundry and post and general junk that lives all over my house. I faffed around for hours mainly moving junk from one resting place to another and creating a bigger mess. I then became overwhelmed by the mess. There is one corner in my sitting room where stuff goes to die. There is a box with firelighters and old school books and receipts and just random useless shit. Beside the box is a sideboard/ press/cupboard yoke. Everytime I look at this corner a little part of me dies. The corner signifies the mess of the whole house. Inside the press lives piles of cards we received when the kids were born, newspaper clippings, board games, many cameras ( I went through three cameras a year at one stage they just kept breaking) and lots of other stuff that needed sorting. I was never going to sort it out. Today when I was busy walking aimlessly from room to room and sighing before giving up and taking to the bed with the boy to watch Star Wars, the husband took on the worst job. The box no longer exists and the press of hell is tidy. He threw out the non important crap and kept the important crap and its neat and now useable. The rest of the house is still a tip but the world looks brighter as a result. I may actually be encouraged to sort out the rest of the house tomorrow now that this job is done.
On a romance gauge; answering the non important questions that bother me and sorting out the cupboard of hell trump flowers and candlelit dinners every single time.
I’m lucky,sometimes deranged but very lucky.