Organized

23 Jan

I am not organized. Which is to say, I don’t have 60,000 labelled totes cluttering up my closets. I am not keeping the Container Store in business. Like many slobs, I like to say, “I know where everything is,” and that’s true to a certain extent, but then there are the panicked times that I am yanking every spice out of the spice cabinet and tossing it onto the floor in a desperate search for the garam masala that I just KNEW I had. (And then I thought maybe it was in the freezer. And it wasn’t. But I did find some cumin, which saved me from having to ransack the cabinet again looking for that. And then I found the garam masala the next day when I was looking for the coriander, and guess where it was? In the spice cabinet! The whole time!)

We’re having company this weekend, so the Bishop and I decided to tidy up a bit. The Bishop took seventeen thousand bags of recycling over to the recycling center and I went under the living room couch to see what I could find.

I expected to find the lost city of Atlantis, but really it was mostly toys. And books! Lots and lots of Chaos Peanut’s books. And socks. Everyone, including Baby Peanut who isn’t even old enough to throw his socks, was guilty of having thrown socks under the couch.

As we cleaned, we noticed an odd thing. Chaos Peanut got more… organized. Organized in her thoughts and actions. Asking to go potty during an accident instead of immediately after. I found her off-brand My Little Pony, which she named Mimo, under her special eating chair and after I pointed it out to her, she started playing a fun game where the Little People dolls (also found under the couch) line up to take rides on Mimo. Entirely imaginative. Engrossing for her. Really sort of awesome.

Usually she devotes her free time to singing and jumping on the couch, so it was great to see her doing something else.

I pointed this out to the Bishop, that it seemed to have benefitted Chaos Peanut, for us to have done a little bit of straightening. That she seemed more organized because the house was less untidy. (It is still quite, quite untidy, of course, but less so.)

We looked at each other and sighed, knowing how impossible it was going to be to keep it up, even for a day. What we had, instead, was another reason to feel guilty for the way we live.

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