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Mar. 31st, 2005 02:46 pmHi, my name is Nicole, and I have a problem. I cannot control mess ;.;
Oh, it started out easy enough when I was 5. My mum at this point had given up on tackling the housework everyday (for good reason, mind you-- her MS had flaired up fairly bad that year), and my father was at work, so during my waking hours THERE WAS MESS. GLORIOUS MESS. I hated using my toybox, and always wanted to sleep with all my toys.
Yes, apparently I was a toyho.
Old habits die hard, and I never really learned how to put things away. I can pretend when I'm at other people's places-- in fact, I'm usually accused of being a NEAT FREAK or HAVING OCD because everything must be in it's place.
But really? I'm just pretending. What I really want to do is sit down and watch TV instead of organizing your fondue forks in order according to the chromatic dots on their handles.
Living with a roommate did not help with the mess. In fact, it encouraged the mess, as neither of us were very much into spick and span. And it wasn't that I didn't appreciate a barren, vacuumed, de-clothes laying about floor-- I look upon one as a piece of abstract artwork. It's something to be enjoyed in moderation, but not all the time. Good excuse for lazy attitude, anyway.
It would be different if the mess didn't bother me-- because it does. Everday, seeing the mess it's like having my eyeballs being clawed out. Except less ew and more EW. I really do WANT my room to be clean, but things always seem to go against me.
Now, if I bend over, my nose BURNS WITH THE FIRE OF TEN THOUSAND SUNS AND TWO RED HOT TACOS and I get dizzy. Broken noses suck >.<. The last three months has featured me sick litterally more days than I was well. And just when I think I'm finally able to maintain order-- down comes another emergency with family that tires me out to the point I just don't care-- until morning comes, and the eyeball clawing returns.
The mess isn't something out of that horrifying Oprah episode, or anything that british show with the two women cleaning with pink gloves shows. I CAN clean the room in an hour, but organize it is something else. It isn't because I'm hording anything, unless holding my homework for this semester is an example of modern hording ;).
I just want to be ORGANIZED and STAY ORGANIZED. And that was my rant of the week :D. Sorry it's so long ;.;
Oh, it started out easy enough when I was 5. My mum at this point had given up on tackling the housework everyday (for good reason, mind you-- her MS had flaired up fairly bad that year), and my father was at work, so during my waking hours THERE WAS MESS. GLORIOUS MESS. I hated using my toybox, and always wanted to sleep with all my toys.
Yes, apparently I was a toyho.
Old habits die hard, and I never really learned how to put things away. I can pretend when I'm at other people's places-- in fact, I'm usually accused of being a NEAT FREAK or HAVING OCD because everything must be in it's place.
But really? I'm just pretending. What I really want to do is sit down and watch TV instead of organizing your fondue forks in order according to the chromatic dots on their handles.
Living with a roommate did not help with the mess. In fact, it encouraged the mess, as neither of us were very much into spick and span. And it wasn't that I didn't appreciate a barren, vacuumed, de-clothes laying about floor-- I look upon one as a piece of abstract artwork. It's something to be enjoyed in moderation, but not all the time. Good excuse for lazy attitude, anyway.
It would be different if the mess didn't bother me-- because it does. Everday, seeing the mess it's like having my eyeballs being clawed out. Except less ew and more EW. I really do WANT my room to be clean, but things always seem to go against me.
Now, if I bend over, my nose BURNS WITH THE FIRE OF TEN THOUSAND SUNS AND TWO RED HOT TACOS and I get dizzy. Broken noses suck >.<. The last three months has featured me sick litterally more days than I was well. And just when I think I'm finally able to maintain order-- down comes another emergency with family that tires me out to the point I just don't care-- until morning comes, and the eyeball clawing returns.
The mess isn't something out of that horrifying Oprah episode, or anything that british show with the two women cleaning with pink gloves shows. I CAN clean the room in an hour, but organize it is something else. It isn't because I'm hording anything, unless holding my homework for this semester is an example of modern hording ;).
I just want to be ORGANIZED and STAY ORGANIZED. And that was my rant of the week :D. Sorry it's so long ;.;
