If you’ve never pulled your sectional sofa out from the wall on a Sunday afternoon because you’ve lost the remote control for the television, I don’t recommend doing it. It pretty much ruined my day.
I found myself staring at 47 crayon pieces, 3 magazines, 8 dog bones, 11 pens, 1 pencil, 3 Hot Wheels, and enough dog hair to make a new dog. An ugly dog, for sure, but definitely a full size dog.
As I stood there wondering which vacuum cleaner I wanted to clog up with this mess (and fighting the urge to just push the couches back into place and pretend I didn’t see any of it), I realized that I was staring at a perfect analogy of why I need to make some changes in my life. A hairy, Crayola filled analogy.
I was trying to think back to the last time I’d pulled out that couch to clean behind it. I couldn’t remember, and honestly didn’t think too hard after realizing that “Move-In Day, 2007″ would be the odds-on favorite.
So I switched to being annoyed, which is one of my strengths. Who is in charge of cleaning behind that couch? It’s got to be someone, right? I suspect it’s the same person who has been slacking in some other areas as well…… ironing, folding laundry, cleaning ceiling fans, power washing the decks, and getting the dozens of bags of cans to the Recycling Center. It’s the slacker with 14 unfinished household projects, including a crocheted afghan project that’s closing in on 5 years, but is still only 60″ by 4”. I suppose it could also be the mystery person who hasn’t made my eye doctor appointment for 4 years, devised our monthly menus for the past 3 years, or managed the household budget.
Don’t think I sit around all day watching soap operas and eating bon bons. I take on a lot of responsibility in this family. I have a day job that I love and put lots of myself into. I have totally raised the bar on the Grandma gig. I cook shameful amounts of bacon. I am an accomplished insomniac. I completely over think and therefore complicate all holiday/birthday events. I spoil the pets. I make sure there are plenty of photos of happy family moments posted to Facebook. I get in the middle of my grown children’s personal affairs. I am the Matriarch, dammit!
Secretly, I’d like my husband to say “Honey, don’t worry about (insert any various act of drudgery here), I’ll do it.” However, he doesn’t read minds and doesn’t respond to passive aggressive behavior. I’m kind of screwed.
I’m not sure what happened to the woman who had a routine, a schedule, a groove. The one who actually had a monthly calendar with every meal planned out. The one who ironed clothes, and actually cleaned the top of the refrigerator on a regular basis.
I honestly don’t know where she went. I get tired just thinking about that woman.
Is this an age thing? Did I just wear myself out prematurely? At times, when I’m digging through the 10 lb. box of Milk Bone biscuits which I recycled into the Box O’ Socks, trying to find a matching pair, words like “lazy”, “irresponsible”, “dysfunctional”, and “disorganized” run through my head. Fortunately, I have a short attention span, so I don’t dwell on negative words for long.
I need staff! Or elves, which are like staff but you don’t have to pay them. Or maybe just a cheering section. Or I need to reorganize my life. Ugh.
Right now, I’d settle for finding the remote control.