As I write this post, I have only 19 days, 2 hours and 1 minute left until the end of my MAFE. As I look around the house (my office specifically), panic is staring to set in. This is one my #1 goal right now. I really don't want to let go. This is important to me. I'm letting a lot ride on this. Like, if I fail at this then there's no hope for getting the rest of my life in order. And, there's a preset garage sale date at the end. Which means that if I don't clean it out, it just ain't goin' (and THAT is NOT. GOING. TO. HAPPEN.).
I know, 19 days seems like a lot of time, but it's really not. Not when you have 7 rooms and closets LEFT to completely go through, declutter and reorganize. In addition to 3 businesses. And 4 animals. And a 7 month old. I definitely haven't gotten as far along as I wanted. (I'm blaming that on my husband being gone on a business trip from a Tuesday through the following Monday and my total nervous breakdown in there somewhere).
Anyway...back on it.
Today? The kitchen and kitchen pantry.
I mean, when was the last time I used that espresso machine, anyway?!? (Hellllooo? The 1990s called and they want their espresso machine back!).
If you're lucky, SOME DAY I might post the before and after decluttering pictures for you. It will make you feel REALLY REALLY good about yourself. And who doesn't want to feel better about themself by making fun of other people?
EXACTLY.
So I'm in the middle of MAFE project #3,742 (also known as the ridiculously-large-crap-filled closets in the front hall).
I call the stud my husband in for some help, because really? Do we need all this luggage? I mean, SERIOUSLY, exactly HOW MANY pieces of luggage does one family need?
This is bordering on a serious problem.
Maybe even addiction.
As he weeds through the keep/sale stack (*gasp* get rid of the TUMI or HARTMAN *shudder* how dare I?!?), I find one of his old guitar picks in a bag pocket.
HUBBY (look of nostalgia crossing over his face): "Oh. This is when I was cool."
Me: *blink*blink*
*silence*
HUBBY: (defensive) "SERIOUSLY. Chicks used to line up to get these from me..."
Me: *blink*blink*
*silence*
Then?
TOTAL. HYSTERICAL. LAUGHTER.
Over my guffaws and snorts:
HUBBY: (complete and total dejection) "OH MAN! At least you could just go along with it. I used to have some beautiful girlfriends, you know!"
Yes, honey, and it was all because you had guitar picks engraved with your name.
Seriously.
Don't you ever think differently.
Now that I think of it? It's kinda turning me on right now...
Today is day three of The Mayhem and Foolishness Experience (MAFE). I've come to terms with the fact that our clutter is serious business. We might need an intervention. Like, yesterday.
You may be wondering if you are stuck in MAF (mayhem and foolishness)? If you aren't sure, take a picture of your rooms because, as we all know, pictures don't lie. I took pictures of the MAF in my office and seriously? I. HAD. NO. IDEA. Try it. It will catapult you into reality.
I worked on my office MAF most of Sunday. I made a dent, but outward appearance would say differently. Mostly, I cleaned out cabinets and bookshelves (you know, to eventually fill with other MAF).
I actually set up a schedule to clear out the MAF permanently (shut up). I found some nuggets of help and inspiration online, mostly due to Michelle at Babblin' on the Bayou (she's my organized fantasy self...I want to be her when I grow up), the Org Junkie, and a some freebies at www.KeepAndShare.com (the calendar is a little glitchy, but it's F.R.E.E. so don't whine). Anyway, according to my calendar, The MAF will be permanently gone by the third week in September. We'll see.
You'll be happy to know (or, more likely, not really give a sh*t), that I can actually see the top of my desk as I'm typing this today.
I'd love to chat, but I'm off to file more paperwork.
Maybe I'll get to that after a nap...
We're this___close to being an episode of Clean House. So today ("the nicest of the nice summer days we've had" as my bitter husband spat), we're cleaning house.
Not playing outside with our daughter (who loves the outdoors - check that - loves watching the cars that drive outdoors).
Not swimming.
Not drinking margaritas on our dock.
We're cleaning.
C-L-E-A-N-I-N-G. (The opposite of H-A-V-I-N-G F-U-N).
I don't really know how it happened. The moment that it started to spiral out of control, that is. It seemed to be around the time that I found out I was pregnant (with the "surprise you're almost 40 and have an oldest stepdaughter in college and one in high school" pregnancy). I was ill the entire 8 months of pregnancy (Ella came 1 month early). I was so sick that I only gained 8 pounds in the first 6 months of pregnancy. EIGHT POUNDS. I gained that the first 2 days of my Cancun vacation two years ago. If I wasn't hanging my head in the toilet bowl, I was at the doctors office or in the hospital for yet ANOTHER medical emergency. I think the downward spiral started to happen about then and we never recovered. I mean, when you spend 98.34% of your day puking or feeling like you are going to puke, you don't really care if your office desk is clean or if the macaroni is growing mold in the 'fridge.
I'm working specifically on my office today. It's HARD. REAL HARD. I have built-in bookshelves on both sides of the room that are packed. What goes and what stays? It's hard when you are an academic writer. As soon as I throw one medical book away, sure enough, I'll get a contract were I need page 287 out of that one book. *sigh* I think I'm actually breaking out into hives.
It's sad. We used to be organized people. Todd and I have both successfully worked from home for years - so that alone proves some level of discipline. Now? I have to shove over a pile of teetering crap just to make room to work at my desk. Real productive.
On my desk right this very moment (that I can see as I'm writing this): a stack of marketing books, stacks and stacks of God-only-knows-what stacks of paper, some packing tape, 2 other laptops, 3 kids books by Gyo Fujikawa
I used to have a cleaning lady. I wonder what happened to her? Maybe she's stuck in my office clutter somewhere. I do occasionally hear a muffled cry...
