Don’t mind the messy table. Or do. I mind it. Just not enough to do anything about it, evidently.
No, I try my best to ignore the chaos around me until Saturday. Lately, though, in all honesty, I don’t do much of anything in terms of picking up.
I’m supposed to take ibuprofen for my hands, but I often forget. I bet that would help, though. I could do more things.
Really, the living room isn’t that bad, other than the coffee table, which is a total catchall for all of our stuff. Yes, I’ve got things on it, too. Christmas candles that need to go in the windows, my hand weight for strengthening exercises, an old soda, probably that Chasing Cupcakes book that disappointed me. Mail I haven’t opened.
I’m not always as perfectly organized as I aspire to be.
The kitchen is a whole other story. We need a system in there. I’ve tried to implement systems in the kitchen, but they break down fast. I need to empty out the pantry so all of the recycling buckets fit in there again. Then it will be much better.
I could do that during shutdown. Since I won’t be recovering from any surgery I totally could’ve had if Wentworth hadn’t dropped the ball.
I got cubbies for the kids so they can hang their own coats and have a place for their school bags. Those have to be built, though.
I’m not bad at putting things together; I assembled Aislyn’s high-quality bookcase not all that long ago, I’ve done counter stools, pretty easy projects.
But I imagine I’ll need Derek’s help with this one, now that my hands are bad. This hadn’t really occurred to me when I bought the cubbies.
They came yesterday. “Aren’t you guys excited?” I said. “You’ll finally have a place to put your things instead of the floor!”
Yeah, they could have cared less. I’m the one who gets excited about organizing.
You can say it. I’m a huge dork. I know. But I don’t mind being a dork, anymore.
I should go. Have a great day and a lovely commute. See you soon.