Lately I have felt as though my life has consisted of some seriously disorganized chaos. Yes, this represents a change as my life generally involves organized chaos. For those of you whose lives do not fall into such categories, rest assure that organized chaos is manageable. But unorganized chaos – not so much.
I have learned that organizing some part of my life or house usually lessens anxiety that surfaces as a result of such calamity. This past weekend I decided that our linen closet needed a bit of organization. My family was less than impressed with my suggestion that we tackle this project as a family – you know, in our effort to bond and spend quality time together. “You call this quality time?” grumbled my son as he slowly got up from the table.
After a few minutes I realized the bonding process had not quite kicked in as I had hoped (go figure). I liked to believe that it was compassion for my children that got the best of me when I suggested they go do something else. However, I must be honest and admit that it was their constant whining that found my last nerve. Right after my face and neck tensed and my left eye began twitching, but before my head began spinning around, my brain prompted my mouth to say, “Why don’t you guys go and relax, after all, summer vacation is coming to an end and you’ve been working soooo hard!”.
This project continued as my husband and I began taking inventory of our flat and fitted sheets, pillow cases and blankets. “Good lord”, I exclaimed “Look at all these pillow cases!” “They’re like rabbits. I think they reproduce when the closet door closes! How else could we have so many? And look, none of them match? Can we get rid of some of these?” I asked knowing how my I-can’t-throw-anything-away husband would respond. “Well, you just never know, we might find a use for them or better yet, their match.”
I figured we would have a better chance at winning the lottery than finding pillow cases that match (and we don’t even PLAY the lottery). Yet, I realized this was a battle I could lose as my goal was, as always, to win the war. So we folded pillow cases for what seemed like several hours before moving onto the next section in our linen closet.
Fitted sheets. “How we collected fifteen fitted sheets but only had three flat sheets remains a mystery to me” I said aloud. “Oh” commented my husband. “It’s so much easier to use flat sheets for drop towels instead of fitted sheets.” “But I thought we were supposed to use OLD flat sheets for drop towels.” I argued. “Huh, I guess I must have just grabbed whatever” my husband said innocently, flashing that cute impish grin.
As I attempted organizing our 34 pillow cases and three flat sheets my husband tackled the fitted sheets. It wasn’t long before I heard his frustration.
“What the … how am I supposed to …for crying out loud…” he mumbled while attempting to fold something that simply could not be folded. He added, “Between the two of us we have a gazillion years of school yet for the life of me I can’t figure out how I am supposed to fold these flippin things”.
As I look back on the last five hours of attempting to organize the smallest closet in the house I couldn’t help but wonder who I would rather use my last round of buckshot on. My kids for their amazing three minutes of cooperative help, my husband for his amazing effort toward taking 2 hours to fold three fitted sheets, or myself for thinking this would actually constitute as “quality time”.