If I believe (and why wouldn’t I) what my parents tell about me when I was little, there has been a time in my life when I liked everything neat and organized. I sorted my toys, I loved detailed work and I adored putting snippets of paper into the bin. I guess in a way you could say I haven’t changed that much.
I still love everything neat and organized.
One of my biggest talents however seems to be my capacity to turn a room in an epic mess in the blink of an eye. And I do it everywhere. My locker at school is to be opened with a safety helmet, my wardrobe is a battlefield and my purse contains a surprising amount of useless stuff where I have to put my hands on before finally finding my wallet (
To save my husband’s sanity (and our marriage, for that matter), I have promised him (I almost had to put it my wedding vows) to keep things fairly tidy in our living areas. Most of the time, I manage to keep my promise.
But then there’s that room. Luckily, it’s not part of the living areas. It’s more like storage. It’s my work space. It’s…
this. No longer battlefield. War zone.
Every time I open that door, I know I should finally tackle that room, clean it up, throw things out, f
ind things back, even if it’s just only a square inch at a time. So let’s add this one to yesterday’s food challenge. I give myself four months. By August 31, it must be spotless. Just in time for the new school year. At least I have a nice, clean place to make my epic mess then.