Advice from a Small Town Girl

Is your house all decorated for Halloween?

Mine is.

In fact, I’m thinking of charging admission to what could possibly be the scariest haunted house in the state.

Cobwebs drape from nearly every corner, complete with extra-large spiders. Slimy objects lurk in the refrigerator. There’s an obstacle course around the deck and back door. More cobwebs cover the houseplants on the kitchen windowsill, both dead and alive. Yet more drift artistically from the artifacts arranged above the cupboards. One room is completely empty, while another has three rooms worth of furniture crammed into it.

The laundry room is barely visible over the top of the mountain of laundry.

The front porch looks as though the house is abandoned, with drifts of dead leaves and dirt. Window screens contain the detritus of several dust storms and more spider families.

Dead plants decorate the wine-barrel planters and garden bins around the exterior.

The vegetable garden appears to have been managed by the Munsters.

If only it were intentional.

If only I were exaggerating (well, maybe I am, a little.)

I’d like to tell myself that it’s because I spend all my time at the shop, but that wouldn’t be strictly true. I do spend a lot of time at the quilt shop, but not so much that it would keep me from doing the housework.

I’d also like to tell myself that it’s because I’m so tired from working all day, but that also wouldn’t be strictly true. Think of all the other people in the world who work all day, sometimes more than one job, and still manage to do the laundry and the dishes.

Because somewhere along the line, they learned not just that some degree of cleanliness and organization was important, but also how to make it happen.

I know it’s important, you know. I just don’t seem to be able to make it happen.

This is where it gets tricky. Because I was told often as a child and teenager that I was lazy.

And maybe I am. Maybe I just don’t want to believe it.

I prefer to think of myself as overwhelmed and disorganized.

Or under-motivated.

Or something.

I don’t think it matters what the reason is. I suspect there’s probably more than one. And I also suspect that at least half of you are sitting there thinking, “When is this woman going to get some new material?”

This week, as many weeks, I’m really not that interested in reasons, or even in changing the behavior that causes me so much angst.

This week I think I’ll just believe I’m OK.

Just don’t knock on my door.