Nightmare

I had a full blown nightmare this morning. I woke up when my mom's assistant arrived at the house today, I could hear them talking. But I fell back asleep quickly. The dream happened after I had been up and went back to bed.

I was living in a condo, but it was much more like the apartment where I lived in Tempe years ago. First floor, single level, plaster walls. I was returning home after being away for a long time, and I was finding all sorts of things wrong. At first, it looked like vandalism inside the house, and then I realized that a group of transient people had moved into my house. They had tossed out most of my belongings. I found my mattress and bedspread outside where the weather had ruined them. At one location along the hallway, I found that someone had written the same two names "Kyle" and "Jessie" in crayon on the walls, all over. It looks like two kids had entertained themselves there by writing on the walls. The rooms were all trashed, the ceilings were messed up, and weird trash was everywhere. I was both furious and scared at the same time. I was furious because it was my Mom's idea for me to leave the house for so long, and it was a BAD idea. And I was scared because there were thousands of dollars of damage to a place that I was only renting. What would I do? I remember feeling so angry with my Mom. I yelled at her, and told her to come and see what had happened, and that if I had been there, it wouldn't have happened. Near the end, I went to another condo complex to find a new place to live, and the manager was not only kind, she was explaining to me that the repairs to my old place could be taken care of -- which is when I was awakened by the phone ringing.

The parallels to my current living situation is remarkable. And I suppose that at some level, I'm really angry with my Mom for some of the things she has done. I don't let myself feel that because I feel so grateful for all of the help she has given me so selflessly. But this help does come at a price, and that is her taking back some control over my life. I didn't move 2000 miles away to escape that, but once I was away, I realized how controlling she had continued to be in my life. It's only one aspect of a very full relationship, and in no way is my realization of this a criticism of her. It's just me acknowledging for myself the realities of the relationship. This is just what I have to deal with.

When I first woke up, I was in a panic, partly a hangover from the dream feeling, but partly because I worried that I might be actually manifesting such a disaster for real. Honestly, there is a part of me that is worried about being away from my home for so long. I've got people checking on my home every few days, plus the neighbors are always there. What is valuable for me, what provides me with some helpful information about myself, is the realization that fear is playing such a big part in my reactions. Am I pushing to go home because I'm afraid of being away too long? Is that even a small factor? What every happened to trusting, to living in a universe that responds to my desires for safety and prosperity? It's something to think about.

But more than thinking about it, I'm trying to really open up my heart today to remember what it feels like to live inside a safe place. The realities of the world around me are harsh, and there is nothing in the news that would lead a person to believe that the world is safe. But I know better. I know that I can choose to live in safety no matter is going on around me just by keeping my heart open and by focusing on that desire. I know how to do this. I'm going to spend some time today and this evening doing that.

Clenching Resumed Today

I clenched inside today. I was sitting on the bed, mindlessly watching TV because I wasn't feeling strong, just resting, really. And I felt myself lock up inside. A part of me that had been relaxed suddenly went tight. I was thinking about several things, each slightly problematic, each having to do with my return to daily living responsibilities. Medical bills. The problem with forwarding my mail. The fact that I'm not retrieving my voice mail messages. The unwritten letters. Responses that I haven't made. Committments that I've made and not yet fulfilled. Real life stuff.

But until that moment, I didn't even realize that I wasn't clenching. And then I felt it. And now, I don't know how to undo it. I realized in that moment that I had been carrying around a lot of clenching before I got sick. In fact, I suspect now that much of my reaction to life involves clenching, preparing myself for an incoming punch. Is that really the way I see my life? Is that really how I feel about the nature of the universe? My mind says NO, but my body says YES. And since my body has been doing some pretty loud talking lately, that YES has my full attention.

One thing I've learned during my recovery time is that there is an opportunity for me to apply what I've learned about my food/weight change to other areas of my life. Here, I've created a vision, set a goal, and then made decisions to implement that goal. I've been wildly successful -- I'm not finished with this area, but WOW have I made a lot of progress. But the same technique needs to be applied to how I spend my waking hours, to create a daily routine/schedule that really allows me to get the most important things done, and eliminates all of the time wasters that keep me from doing those things. In other words, it is time to get serious about how I live my life.

Some of what has been driving me has been this incredible sense of fear. Since I got sick, I've had to walk through so many fears, almost like passing into the dancing flames of a fire. I was paralized, for the most part, and at some level, I just stopped fighting the forward motion that was already in place. It's like I was in a tractor beam at some point, and these experiences of the ER, surgery, and even the post-hospital IVs and recovery, were unfolding before me, without letting me have any say in what was going to happen. The best I could do was relax a bit, and allow these experiences to happen, allow the motion forward to happen, and do my best to be conscious -- sentient -- in the process. My heart was broken open in a new way, and my emotions were on the surface, so I felt so much. I allowed myself to cry with sadness, laugh with joy, express gratitude, guilt, remorse, and more. I even spoke up to protect my true feelings at times when it would have been easier to stay quiet, and told people how I really feel about things.

I think today's clenching was triggered mostly by two things: knowing that the hospital bill is enroute to me, and the distant reality of me purchasing a home. I've been in a sort of "ignorance is bliss" stage, not knowing the size of the medical bills, not knowing how much I would owe, and feeling like a new home was only a few months away, once I get back to Phoenix. All of these things came crashing in on me today. And really, there isn't any good reason for these things to change -- just my HABIT of clenching and reacting with fear. I can feel it in my stomach right now as I'm writing.

I want to find the key to this inside of myself. I want to be a person whose heart really does fly free, soaring with new ideas, and creativing looking for the positives in each situation. I want to be a person who uses the contrast of any present moment to help me to clarify what I want and determine to have it, to set my course looking forward to a happy future, believing that I can have what I want, making it happen through allowing it to unfold.

Oh, Great Spirit, source of wisdom within me, show me how to unlock that part of me that is so used to clenching. Show me how to choose thoughts that allow me to avoid the place in the road where clenching naturally happens for me. Show me how to listen to my heart exclusively. Show me how to make a happy daily life for myself. Show me how to prioritize what is most important to me right now so I can start living this happy life RIGHT NOW before I go to bed, and each new day I face. Show me how to heal my knee and the rest of my body. Show me how to keep my heart open and trusting. Show me. I'm watching with my eyes closed. Tell me. I'm listening for your soft voice.

I know that I can be different. I know that I can change. I choose to be different than I am today. I choose to be the person in my heart, the person I dream of being. A person who may feel fear but choses a course of action. A person who puts her cheeks into the wind and enjoys the breeze. A person whose heart leads her from one miracle to the next. Yep, that's who I want to be. Yep, that' who I'm becoming.

What Goes Around...

Tonight I spent some time around my sister and her newish boyfriend, someone she is pretty serious about. I vaguely know him from high school, more like I know about him. I didn't really have an opinion of him back then, and now, I think he's a pretty good guy. He seems to care about her and treat her well, and he's fit into our weird family dynamic quite nicely. He's pretty flexible, a quality I admire in people.

Turns out, one of his best friends is the first guy to make my shit list. This guy was a from high school, and wanted to date me -- that is -- until he met my sister. My Dad had already told me that "she's the pretty one, your're the smart one..." so the fact that a guy would fall for my sister over me wasn't shocking. And he didn't break my heart... we didn't spend that much time together and I wasn't crazy about him first. So, in the grand scheme of love, this first loser of my dating career isn't a major player. I remember that my sis went out with him for a while, and I remember thinking that if she was crazy enough to go out with a guy who would dump a girl for her sister, she deserved whatever she got. I don't remember why they stopped dating, but I also don't remember any trauma on her part.

My sis mentioned that she and her new guy go out to dinner with my shit list guy and his wife all of the time, and that the wife doesn't know that she and he dated at one time. Just proves my point -- once a shit head, always a shit head. I do wish, for his sake, that he had outgrown such things, but apparently he didn't.

I wondered tonight how I would feel about going out to dinner with that foursome... but there is this wall that comes up in my gut about that idea. It's not that I've nursed a grudge against him all of these years, I didn't even remember him when I was thinking about the people I might see at my next high school reunion. It might be interesting to observe him a bit, watching him squirm, and then for me to publicly remind him of our dating story in the group, in front of the wife, of course. That might be interesting. But overall, my gut feeling is that it just isn't the way I would want to spend some time. In fact, I'd rather play solitaire on the computer than live out that scenario. THAT is saying something.

I thought, too, about forgiveness, and checked my heart to see if I'm holding on to something that I should let go of. I'm still thinking about that one.

Another Sleepless Night

I will be very glad when I can go to bed and fall asleep. I'm not sure what is up with me, but since I've been here, I've not been able to sleep. Except during the day. It's like my usual insomnia, but it is lasting much longer. That usually only lasts a few days at a time. At the same time, I'm trying to keep a schedule in synch with everyone else. Last night, I heard my Dad's alarm going off and I hadn't been to sleep at all. Maybe I'll be luckier tonight.

Emails Sent To Friends

Sunday, 29 September

Hello XXXX

It was great actually talking with you, and like you said, to put a voice with the written word. It's amazing, isn't it, how much a voice gives away about a person. Around here the rednecks are called briars (meaning mostly hicks from Kentucky, or as the inbred ones say, "'Tucky"). Maybe it's my childhood, but when I hear that particular linguistic twang, I get this whole image. I dated a guy from 'Tucky once. Honest to god, his parents were like third cousins, and for the most part, there were only about 12 unique last names in the phone book. OK, it was a small town, but still. He was actually brilliant, a couple of master's degrees and all, but neither of his parents stayed in school long enough to hit puberty. (Maybe there IS a method to the madness, after all!)

As you can tell from this note, I'm getting to where I have short bursts during the day when I actually FEEL like Charlene again. It doesn't last long, the aches and pains return and I slip back into being a sicko, but in those sick moments, my own level of patience is being really tested. Really. I'm not a very patient sick person, as I'm discovering. I'm still being nice to my parents, its not like I've turned into the houseguest from hell or anything, but inside myself, there is a silent rage that is growing that I can't lift things, I can't bend over, I can't even fucking sit on a chair without doing the "princess and the pea" kind of padding. And believe me, that "pea" reveals itself all too soon. I'm doing better walking, doing a bit further every day. I'm not up to twice around the block yet, but I've added a bit more distance. But walking just makes me ache more, makes me more aware of the muscles and things that are being regrown through the miracle of human physiology. We aren't as awesome as salamanders that regrow things like new legs, but heck, what our bodies do to heal is pretty fucking amazing.

Sorry to be swearing so much, but it's the small voice of rage talking through me. I wonder if I'm turning into a Sybil, and if so, what should I call the angry [my real name], the one who just wants to get back to the old [my real name]'s life? Oh, let's be creative... how about [my real name]? And how about if I call the sicko [my real name] by another name, because she is really the foreign creature. How about Molly? I never really liked that name, and I really don't like being sick, so I'll be glad to dispense of both the moniker and the illness.

Well, the pea has revealed itself, so I must resume laying down.

Ta ta for now....

Me/Molly
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA (evil laughter)

Saturday, 28 September

Hello XXX

I'm taking good care of myself here, and am slowly seeing progress. I'm getting stronger, and while the pain is actually getting worse, it seems to be more of a healing sort of pain. Regrowing of muscles, reconnecting of nerves. Rather then prescription pain killers, I chose to only take Advil, so I'm living with a bit more pain than necessary, but I also have my full mental capacity! I'm not one for drugs, truth be told. And I do have a high tolerance for pain.

I'm writing about my experience at the Desert Mermaid blog if you are interested. I'm not writing very ofen, the act of sitting for a length of time is painful, since that is where my incision is located!

Trust that all is well in your world. Would love to hear the details of what you are doing -- anything is fascinating to me right now I feel so isolated and separated from real life.

Hugs

Sunday, 22 September

Hi XXXX

I've arrived safely at my parent's home, and am taking advantage of the opportunity to rest and recouperate. I'm getting a bit stronger every day. I'm still not strictly back on my diet -- I'm pretty much eating what they are serving for now. In a few more days, once I feel strong enough to take on some cooking, I'm going to start fixing food that is on my diet. I've offered to cook enough for everyone if they want to try what I eat, but they are pretty set in their own ways. Seems that I will be cooking mostly for myself.

I have lost a total of 50.5 pounds so far, not sure how many stones that is, but it is about 7 pounds since the start of my illness, which pleases me. But as I've said, my focus right now is getting strong and healthly, and weight gain is the last thing on my list of priorities for today.

I walked half way down the block today, and turned around and came back. It is the furthest I've walked in over a month. Tomorrow, during a break in the rain, I'm hoping to walk a bit further, or perhaps do the same walk two times.

Anyway, I'm getting stronger and feeling better every day.

By the way, my sister says that once I start complaining about mom and dad -- that is when she will know that I'm finally back to normal. I'm just so grateful for the help that nothing bothers me, you know?

I ordered a wreath of roses, yarrow and other plants for my mom as a thank you gift. It arrived today, a bit earlier than I had scheduled it. The flowers will all dry and so the wreath is permanent. My mom loves it, and had me help her to hang it in the middle of their dining/family room.

Will write more as I'm able.

Hugs

Please see my post at Desert Mermaid for an update.

The Printer Repair Guy -- Followup

Nope, I haven't heard a peep from him. And I haven't decided yet what I want to do about it. When I'm done being sick, I'll figure out a plan of action. In the meantime, would someone please stop by to fluff my pillows and put on the fresh pillowcases? Oh, and I like cranberry juice, Northland because it is 27% cranberry, not that wavy logo stuff. And some raspberry would go nicely with that.

Since you are stopping, how about picking up something nice in a can for the Skoochie man? He's driving me crazy, that is, when he isn't snuggled up next to me taking advantage of my extra bed time.

Thanks.

What a Friggin' Day: A Story of Betrayal and Independence

Chapter 1: Night Terrors

You know those days when everything seems to go wrong no matter what you do? Today was my turn, again. I'm not really complaining over here. I've had a few good cries, gotten angry, and then took decisive action. And now, there is a small measure of joy in my life. The kind of joy that is only possible after you have endured a toothache and then the toothache is gone. You know what I mean?

Right from the start, things were tough. I was very tired last night, so I fell asleep about 8:30. I set the alarm for 4:45 to give me a full night's sleep. Ahhh, it wasn't that simple. I woke up with a start about 1:30 am in a panic, with the crazy idea in my head that I owed the IRS every penny I've made this year. Which, of course, is not true, but tell that to my beating heart in the middle of the night. I was yawning and tired, but after that adrenelin rush, there was no way I could get back to sleep.

I took advantage of the "extra" hours in the morning. I worked in the office for a while, sorting out some more financial paperwork, and then cleaned the whole upstairs, including running the vacuum and doing the kitty box. Then, about 3:30 I went downstairs to clean the kitchen, do the dishes, and two loads of laundry. I was expecting the printer repair guy to actually show up and return my printer (which he had kidnapped from my on February 18th, but don't get me started). So, I cleared a path for him, moving the furniture to give a wider walkway, and moved some plants. I didn't want him to face an obstacle course. About 6 am, I was in my office again, starting to work. At 8, I got my shower.

Chapter 2: The Thorn of the Rose

At 9:15, I called the printer repair guy to see if he was still on his way. He had this long drawn out personal story about why he was delayed, and what he had to prioritize before me. OK. He said that he would be here in abot 45 minutes. I was exhausted and hungry, but since I didn't have any groceries, I didn't have anything substantial I could eat. I had the last handful of grapes to hold me over. Then, about 15 minutes later, the printer repair guy calls me, to say that he has had yet another emergency, and can't come until later. I tell him that I need to run some errands, and will be back in about 90 minutes. He says that works perfectly for him, and for me to call him when I get in.

I dash out to my neighborhood Trader Joe's for a leisurely shop for delicious things, which I find in abundance. I make it through the store just fine, and am in quite a good mood, actually. The only excpetion -- I was reaching for the sorbet in the freezer case to check its nutritional information when the lid catches on something and jerks it out of my hand, back into the case, clipping off one of my fingernails, broken to the quick. I get the groceries loaded into my truck and drive home. It's 10:45 when I pull in, so after unloading the truck, I call the guy. He says that he'll be here in 45 minutes. So I start putting things away, and then I get out my favorite vase. I had purchased a half dozen yellow roses for myself, and I was feeling very happy. I cut the stems, trimmed off the leaves below the water line, and took the vase up to the office to enjoy today.

Because of a project spread out on my desk, there just wasn't any room for the vase, except for right by the printer's empty place, and since the guy is on his way, that's not a good place. In my brilliance, I decide that for now, I'll put the roses on the floor between my chair and the wall, and move them to the other side of the desk after the guy leaves. Only they never made it. About half way down, suddenly the vase just shatters in my hands, and broken glass, water mixed with blood, and roses go everywhere. First, I scramble to move my computer tower out of the flood zone, and then, I go into the bathroom to get a towel to sop up the mess. Cursing the whole time. I pick up the big pieces of glass and put them into what remains of the vase, along with the rose stems, which I also yell at, like it is their fault. As I'm screaming at them, I swear I can feel them wilting in my hands, and I feel guilty for taking out my rage on an item that only exists in my world to provide beauty. It was a wake up call, and the anger stopped immediately. I found yet another vase for them in the kitchen, and brought them back up to the place they were headed before the disaster hit.

Chapter 3: Holding Pattern

By now, it is more than 45 minutes, and I'm sure that the printer repair guy will be ringing the doorbell any minute. So I decide to go back downstairs to wait, and lay out on the couch to close my eyes. I have quite a headache by this time, and this quiet resting helps me to relax a bit. I decide to call my mom at her office, only I get put on hold. For five minutes. So I hang up and wait another 15 minutes. Still no guy, so I try mom again. I'm on hold for three minutes before I give up again. I wait another 20 minutes, still no guy, and this time, mom picks up the phone in just a few seconds, but she is too busy to talk. I should have figured, eh? By now, it is nearly 1 pm, and since the printer guy was going to be here just about 11:30, I decide that I'll give him until 1 before I call again.

Chapter 4: Lightening and Thunder

My doorbells goes off at 2 minutes to 1 pm. When I get to the door, the printer repair guy is standing there holding my printer. Now, this is a big old laser printer, and it weighs something like 45 pounds. So I push open the door and start in behind him. He comes into my living room and stops, and I say "after you..." to which he replies "oh, you want it upstairs..." and I'm thinking "yea, I want it where the computer is, where you took it from!" I trot up behind him. He spots the empty printer place and sets it down, and take three steps back. I'm looking at him, like "so, does it work?" and he says "Do you still have the cables for it?" and doesn't make a move. I walk over and sit on the floor next to the tower (beside the towel that is still sopping up the rose water) and pull out the cables from the electrical spaghetti. I hand him the ends he needs for the printer, and he connects them and turns it on. I reach over to the mouse and send a single page to print. I hear the printer start to spit out, page after page, and I reach over to see what he is pulling off the printer. It's a test page, and another, and another. And they look horrible! The toner is leaking in places where it shouldn't be, and letters are missing in other places. Then, I get an error message on the computer. One problem at a time. I tell him that the test page looks horrible. He says that he told me the page was still printing crooked (he didn't fix it in the 6 months that he had it, but I knew that before he returned it.) So I remind him that I called for the service because the toner cartridge I had purchased from his company burst and spilled all over inside, and since they were coming out, and it hadn't been serviced for 18 months, I scheduled a maintenance call, also. In addition to the new toner cartridge and spill. It was during that process that he told me that he would have to take it into the shop to fix the crooked printing. He didn't say anything. I told him that this printout wasn't acceptable. Then things got really ugly.

Chapter 5: Lightening Strike

The printer repair guy said to me "Well, if you expect me to go and fetch another toner cartridge and bring it back, I'm going to have to charge you for another service call." To which I said, "you still haven't completed the first service call... and I don't have any problem paying for the original service I requested." I didn't even mention that it took him six months to return my printer, or that he had scheduled more than 6 times to return it and plain just didn't show up, three of them in the last two weeks. I didn't even go there. He headed for the door, with me in pursuit, and he told me that he wasn't charging me for the hours he spent working on my printer, to which I could have said "You only attempted to fix my printer... you didn't fix it... that's at your expense." But again, I didn't go there. Instead, I told him that I knew he already had appointments this afternoon, and that Monday was fine. By this time, he is out the door and I'm trotting behind him onto the carport when I realize:

THE PRINTER GUY HAD LEFT HIS TRUCK RUNNING ON MY DRIVEWAY.

He had no intention of setting it up and making sure that it worked. He had no intention of providing any kind of service. That was the last straw. I'm standing on my carport with my jaw hanging open at this revelation when I realize he is talking. He says that he will bring the new toner cartridge by on Monday and just ring the doorbell and leave it on my mat. I'm still in shock when he pulls out of the driveway into the street.

Chapter 6: Plotting Revenge

And then I get mad. Really mad. I've bit my tongue this whole time, not gotten firm with him about the return delivery, and now this. I'm furious with myself for allowing this situation to drag on like this, and I'm really mad at him for providing such poor service and having such a pissy attitude. I'm so angry that I start to cry. I start pacing around the house, imagining the conversation I could have with him, ripping him a new one, letting him know that this isn't acceptable. Then, I think I will call the president of the company and give him a piece of my mind, too. And then I realize that if I make either one of those calls, I'll either start screaming (and be dismissed as a hysterical woman) or start crying (and be dismissed as a weak woman). This is not the time for me to take action, but these strong negative emotions are roiling around inside me and I feel like I'm going to burst from it.

I bite my tongue, and think hard, and then pick up the phone and call my dear friend at work. Yes, she is at work, and I'm crying. When she answers, I ask first if she has a minute, and she really only has a couple before meeting. So I tell her the very short version of the story (she know the basic printer story, anyway.) As I'm talking, I'm thinking that maybe I should just end my misery by calling one of their competitors to come and take over. I say this, but Kim reminds me that these assholes need to know that their customer service sucks. She's right. And then, I realize that all of this upset is happening over a printer that prints cockeyed. No matter how the toner gets fixed, the pages are always going to be crooked on the page. I sigh, and I know that my solution has to solve all of my problems. I'm feeling much better, no longer feeling like an estrogen hand grenade, and I let Kim get on to her meeting. Thank God for girlfriends.

Chapter 7: Sprouting Seeds
I spend most of an hour trying to get the printer to take print jobs from the computer. But not being a hardware gal, I can't get very far. I try all of the things I know, a few time, and then feel despair. What am I going to do? How can I fix this situation for myself? And then, a new idea ibegins brewing inside me... I need to buy a new printer. And suddenly, the clouds of anger are breaking up and the sunlight of hope and independence find their way to shine on me. I get back online and start looking at printer reviews. After most of another hour spent comparing the specs, I realize that there are going to be many options available to me that can give me the same characteristics I have with my trusted old dinosaur and for under $400. I'm so relieved! At one point when the printer repair guy said that he couldn't fix my printer, I had considered buying a new one, and the ones I saw were between $800 and $1400, and were more than I was willing to invest in my business. I decided that I could live with crooked printing, after all.

I narrow my choices down to three, and then two. And then, without really giving it much thought, I selected one. I went out to the company's website to download their user manual to see if there were any nasty maintenance surprises. And there were not. So, I called my local computer store and asked if they have them in stock. I got the greatest sales clerk, very helpful, offered me some tips about this printer, and found out that they had one. He put it on hold for me. I drove up and paid for it. It only weighs about 25 pounds, so I didn't have any trouble carrying it into the house and up the stairs.

Chapter 8: Play Time

Of course, mine is a household run by a cat, so Skooch was involved with every step of removing the old printer and installing the new one. His favorite parts were the crinkly bag that the printer was wrapped in, and the big box itself. I was laughing and enjoying his help, and took some pictures of the process. But my greatest joy came when I reached the end of the instructions and realized that 1) the instructions had worked perfectly (how often does that happen?) and 2) I CAN PRINT. After six months of not printing out anything, I can print to my heart's content. The printer is beautiful, the copies are clear, and it works! Oh, and they aren't crooked on the page, either.

So, you are wondering, what will I do to tie up the loose ends?

1. I tried to find my broken fingernail in the freezer case at Trader Joe's but it blended in too much with the frost. I'm afraid that some poor shopper is going to reach in and pull out a pint of sorbet only to discover a fingernail on it.
   
2. I now have an extra printer sitting in the middle of my office. I'm going to call a few charities I know and see if anyone wants a printer that prints crooked and needs a new toner cartridge.
   
3. I don't know what I'm going to do about the printer repair guy and the fact that he said he would return on Monday with a new toner cartridge. Statistically, the odds are that he isn't going to show again. And based on his track record, I don't feel any compunction to notify him not to come. I'll decide later what I'm going to do.
   
4. In the meantime, I'm going to print out everything I've been saving for my files for months and months. In fact, I probably will need more than the ream of paper that I have on hand. I think a short trip to Staples is going to be required tomorrow.
   
5. I'll use the receipt from the printer donation to win back some of my money from the IRS next spring. Wish me luck.

My (Messy) World and Welcome To It

I'm not the world's neatest person. In fact, I'm not the world's most organized person. In my home/office, these two character traits blend together to create exactly the situation you might expect. Clutter. But not permanent clutter. Years ago, I discovered that being surrounded by clutter has an effect on me -- it clutters up my head. In fact, I do best when I live in a neat and orderly environment. And since I work from hom, I don't have the luxury that you wage slaves enjoy... a nice, neat, orderly working environment where someone else cleans the bathroom and break room. (Hey, I remember refrigerators at work... I didn't include them in this!) This means that I expend considerable effort each week to stay on top of my natural tendency towards disorder.

Things have gotten harder the last 6 weeks. That is when I fired my cleaning service for reasons that they deserved. I should have fired them sooner, but I was quite dependent on them, at least emotionally. They came every two weeks, and it was a magical time. I would leave the house about 30 minutes before they were due, and simply leave a check on my counter. I would return two hours later, and marvel at how the "housekeeping fairies" had visited my house. From the moment I opened the door, I would get a whiff of the cleaning fluids used inside, a smell that means order and neatness to every cell of my body.

Of course, it wasn't all that simple. I would spend several hours before they arrived trying to restore order so they would have clean counters, desk tops, and floors to clean. No matter how out of control my clutter factor had gotten, I knew that once every two weeks everything would be clean and neat and orderly. It was a wonderful thing. The laundry would be caught up, my current reading/research project would be wrapped up into folders and books would be returned to their shelves. The stack of magazines beside my bed would be returned to the bookshelf where they truly belonged. And the remote control would be on the leopard ottoman in the living room where I could easily reach for it without worrying that I was going to knock over yesterday's Coke can.

Once they got the house immaculate, I would tip-toe around for days, trying not to mess anything up. Sometimes, I would just sit in each room and admire the order and neatness everywhere. And for the first few days, I would be very good at cleaning up every single mess I made, returning my house to the same pristine order I had so pleasantly discovered when I first walked through the door. I would vacuum every few days to keep the floors neat, and would make sure the dishes were done every night before I went to bed. Each time, I promised myself that I would keep this up until the next time they came, but like every addict, I always fell off the wagon. Sometime within about 5 days, I would stumble downstairs and realize that I had to navigate the dirty clothes I had simply tossed down the stairs the night before, and I would discover my favorite dish for my breakfast fruit parfait was sitting in the sink dirty from yesterday's breakfast. I was well meaning but weak.

When I fired them, I decided that I would do the cleaning myself for a while. I really do like the idea of doing my own cleaning. I like the idea that I move through my house, touching and moving everything I own once a week, of being totally responsible for the order and neatness of my house. (At this point, my friends must be rolling on the floor laughing because they know just how incapable I am of completing this.) I'm doing pretty well, all things considered. The "all things" being the fact that my mind is constantly going off in 15 different directions, so I have 15 projects that I've started, each with their requisit research materials, laying around the office, bedroom, and the kitchen table. It's been a good month for new ideas. Oh yes, and there is the little accounting project spread out upstairs, that one that has to be filed with a specific branch of the government that I still haven't finished for last year. (Don't say the T word, please. Not until I get them filed.) The "all things" also include the fact that I've had to sort through all of my clothes due to my ongoing weight loss, and decide what things fit, what things I'm keeping for the next season, and then what to do with the things that don't fit. "All things" also includes my ongoing decorating and craft projects. This week, I'm working on a collage of cute animal creating card for my neice who wants to be a vet. From previous weeks, I've got a mosaic frame for my powder room mirror that isn't completely grouted, shelves up in my office that didn't get painted, and a stack of Christmas presents (yes, for 2002) that are starting to overflow the area under my drafting table. There are fabric swatches that I'm using to decide how to cover my cornice boards in the living room, new lining for a pair of curtains, and a stack of Longaberger baskets that I keep promising myself I'm going to sell on eBay.

Last night, I took 2 hours and literally moved everything that was in stacks in my office to a new location. I can see the middle of the floor and the futon and drafting tables are clear. Unfortunately, the cat had gotten used to having these piles to climb on, so he is quite annoyed with me, but I'm sitting here today quite proud of myself. I've brought significant order to this room, and it was really painless. It has me inspired to do more in other rooms. Who knows... maybe I'll learn how to be neat and organized before I turn 50.

Can anyone recommend a good cleaning service?

Things I'm thinking about buying:

Lord of the Rings DVD
Property Management for Dummies
Indexing Books
Chicago Manual of Style
My Man Godfrey
White Palace

Feel free to help yourself!