Seeing as how this is an “uncluttered” post it seems redundant to scatter it up with letters…
But then again, how will one know what on earth I’m talking about if I just leave the page blank? Plus, I’m a writer. Is it even plausible for me to leave a blank page untouched? Unless shackled, I think not.
At present, it takes me all day to see solutions to things that would have easily been figured out in my mind within minutes in the past. For example, I can’t seem to figure out what to do about the dishes in the sink, and the lack of counter space that is over-run by pots and utensils, and random objects like magnets and tape. Objects that have nothing to do with cooking whatsoever.
Papers are piling up on my kitchen table. I can’t figure out how to re-organize them, or what to do with them to make them go away. So, I found a second table. I put the second table next to the first and moved all the papers to it so Alexis and I could eat without bills and junk mail staring back at us. But that old trick did not work. Oh no. Those papers have legs. They’re an army and they know how to fight.
Those papers not only camped out on the new table, they then marched their way back onto the old one. If that wasn’t enough I swear the spoon and the fork must have joined their mission and torpedoed some paper missiles on to my kitchen counter. There on the counter they lie in wait with the pots, the utensils, the magnets and the tape. They may seem harmless at first. Oh yes. But I know better. I know they are lurking, waiting to consume my entire mental peace of mind.
I try to attack back. I pull out the broom. I put everything in a nice neat pile. I move the dishes into the dishwasher, and sometimes I even remember to turn it on. But somehow the war on my space is ready to duke it out with me again the very next day!
And this army is smart. They’ve even brain-washed my child! My daughter, whose inconvenient new fascination is with scissors, tip toes around the house, leaving a trail of cut up paper behind her wherever she goes.
Now that I am a single parent and I have less help to clean the clutter, and my daughter demands more time from me since she’s down a parent, what am I to do?
I panicked at the thought of Christmas gifts for Alexis. I phoned my mother right away.
“Hey Mom. Listen. I’ve been thinking. Alexis is young. I know she’s bright and she’s a fire cracker, but at this point we can still get away with re-wrapping some old toys I know she’s forgotten all about. Are you good with that?”
The thought of more stuff coming into the house was just out of the question.
I’m sure she thought I was crazy, and mean for keeping her generous paws off the wrapping of new toys, but our family of two needs a new gift this year. The gift of less stuff because I’m not even winning the war on the existing mounds of … I don’t even know what.
In fact, when my friend said she was doing a toy drive I’m pretty sure I was the first to sign up. “Take this. Take that. Take all of these. PLEASE! Let the kids help me this Christmas season.”
If only someone was doing a paper drive. I do suppose if I could see clearly enough what I could get rid of, Father Garbage Collector and Mother Recycling do pay me a visit once a week. I should really leave them out some cookies and milk.
