Now What Did I Come in Here For?

I know there was a reason I entered the “guest room of terror.”  Oh yeah, was going to spend 10 minutes clearing a few things out and stuffing more stuff into the closet.  I can do it.  I think I’ll start with the pile on the rocking chair.  There’s Grandma’s old crock bowls.  I forgot I stuck them in this box while we were having a graduation party.  I’d better put them back on the shelf in the dining room.  

 This is where my plan goes awry.  Things begin to disintegrate rather quickly from here on.  I carry the bowls innocently into the dining area.  There are still multitudes of pictures of our graduate from over a year ago and decorations from the party on the bookshelf.  The grandkids and I have stacked books and crayons and coloring pages and puzzles on the third shelf and there is a mixture of Mary Kay makeup samples, card games, cd’s and empty cases from a multitude of items strewn across all of the flat surfaces.  Hmmm.  This looks disgusting and cluttered.  Guess I’ll clean it up.  So, I start sorting and throwing away and stacking excess pictures and putting the grandkids’ toys in the toy area of the “guest room of terror” and before I know it, I’ve cleared the shelves where the crock bowls used to go…hmmm…there’s that oak treadle sewing machine table Mom gave us sitting by the kitchen bar…it’s in the way and looks silly there.  I know…I could move this clutter gatherer of a book shelf and put it over here.  

And so it continues, I move the shelf put the sewing machine table there…now where do I put the shelf?  How about in our bedroom in that one corner that has the exercise machine we never use standing in it.  Yup, that works.  Of course I have to rearrange a few thing to fit it in there, but it looks okay so I haul the pictures and books in there and dust things off and yup, it looks good.  Back to the dining room.  You know, if I put the old oak dresser on that wall and the sewing machine table there and turn the dining table and rug, I bet I could get my old oak rocker out and set it in the corner.  So, off I go after the rocker and then begin the process of twisting, dragging and shoving things into place.  Yeah, that works.  It even looks kind of snazzy…except the grandkids’ picture frame.  The pictures are outdated.  It will drive me nuts to sit in my rocker and know the pictures hanging over my head are not the most current adorable ones.

I tromp to the office and get the pictures.  Well, as long as I’m dragging pictures, scissors and tape out, I might as well get that new collage frame we got last Christmas and fill it up.  That takes another hour or so in between putting laundry in and hanging it out and putting things in the camper that I think about because I had to go out and get the vacuum, and talking to the egg delivery lady and answering the phone.  There.  I’m done.  It looks different and not as cluttered…yet. 

I head back to the “guest room of terror” ….and shut the door.

Three Seasons to Dust

So it isn’t Christmas. Christmas is a season I consider dusting. I take down the everyday life dust collectors and replace them with red, green, sparkly Santa-esque shaped dust collectors. During either the taking down or putting up of these dust collectors, I dust.

And, it isn’t Big Upcoming Event season. I don’t have a graduation or wedding or special celebration of something really special coming up. No, it isn’t Big Upcoming Event season…I don’t feel that push to clean to impress. I am not in panic mode and running around the house stashing, hiding and disguising my clutter, so what dusting season is it? Oh, yeah, it’s pine pollen season.

I live amongst the pines. Look up…there’s a pine tree. Look behind…there’s a pine tree. Look to the right…a pine tree…left…a pine tree. Look out across the field which stretches before my house…a few million pine trees. Pine trees are beautiful. They are always green…hence the designation of evergreen. In the winter they change the world by getting every one of their tiny little pine needles coated with frost and then, when the sun comes up, they sparkle and glisten and create an amazing, beautiful moment in time. It is one of those precious moments of absolute beauty…but not today…it’s supposed to be ninety. A gentle breeze is blowing…and the world is yellow. Yellow with pine pollen.

My t.v. is yellow. My dog’s paws are yellow. The coffee pot…yellow. Window sills…yellow. Books on a shelf…yellow. Fake white daisies in a cheap vase…yellow. Even my husband’s animal heads on the wall…yellow. It is definitely Pine Pollen Dusting Season. Still, I don’t want to jump into anything too quickly.  I’m not a rash person.  I probably should wait to dust until I’m sure the Pine Pollen Dusting Season is coming to a close. I wouldn’t want to have to do it twice…not in the same year. No, that wouldn’t do…I’m so darned efficient I wouldn’t want to waste precious energy dusting just to have to do it again within an eleven day period. Believe it or not, I’ve actually heard of people who dust weekly. They’re sick. No one has told them about the Three Seasons to Dust. I hope the poor souls get a copy of this. Geez, I just might change a life with just one blog…yes, I’ve left my legacy on the world.

Don’t Forget Your Underwear

We are going on a long trip this summer.  Driving across Canada and parts of lower Alaska in a pickup camper…two dogs, husband and me.  My husband will be packed, parked and repacked at least a month in advance.  He will have his boots for hiking, boots for fishing, sandals for showers and all of his foot needs cleaned, polished and neatly placed in little bags inside of big bags 6 weeks prior to our departure date.  His fishing gear, rain gear, travel gear and special gear for anything that will go wrong will be in the camper neatly arranged and ready at a moment’s notice.  His underwear will be rolled and stashed in a special pocket in his travel bag way before we leave.  Really.  He actually has enough underwear to pack them ahead of time.  I, on the other hand, will be praying there are underwear to be had in Canada since the last two clean pairs I own are probably somewhere at the bottom of the clean laundry pile in my closet and of course I forgot to dig them out before we left. 

We’ve been married for 30-some years and he has always had this problem of being prepared.  He doesn’t understand the excitement of waiting until the last minute to delve into the dirty clothes hamper for that one sock that matches that other one.  He’ll never have to check to find underwear with no holes because he buys new packages on a regular basis and then proceeds to throw any old pairs away…AWAY!  Yeah, I know he’s got a problem…he thinks the problem is me and my disorganization.  Boy, do I have a surprise for him.  I’m actually getting some of the important things put into a special bag so I won’t forget them.  Yeah, I’ve bought two new sudoku puzzle books.  I’ve bought a new purse…one of those organizer bags as seen on TV and I am ready to fill it full of everything from bandages to dog biscuits, AND, I’ve actually thought…yes, even studied…how many razors I will need for a month’s worth of leg shavings, AND, I might even shave them before we go.  Yah, surprise, Sweetie!  

So, to the man with extra underwear, don’t worry, I’ll be ready.  Kind of.  I’ll be packed.  Kind of.  I’ll be in the truck ready to go.  Kind of.  Hmmm, I think they wear underwear in Canada, don’t they?  Not the long kind…the wide kind, grandma underwear. I should be able to buy some somewhere, shouldn’t I? Maybe I need to do a little research…he’ll be impressed with that.