When I get into the zone, I actually really enjoy cleaning, especially organizing. I like having a place for every paper and toy.
But then real life happens, and things get disorganized. And then I lose track of things.
Yesterday, that happened again. I was planning to run some errands, but I realized when I was heading out that I didn't know where my keys were. I had used them earlier that morning, so I knew they were somewhere in the apartment.
So I hunted, and hunted, and hunted (and prayed). And finally after fifteen minutes of searching, I found them in the diaper bag (which I had checked twice before). I guess I had dropped them in there instead of into my purse. Phew. Then I realized that I still needed to find the celery I was going to give a friend of mine. The day before, a neighbor had given us more celery from his garden than we could hope to use, so I thought I would share some. I mean, nothing says true friendship like celery.
But I didn't know where it had gone. So I hunted, and hunted, and hunted again. Checked the fridge, checked the trash (you never know), checked the diaper bag. Nothing. Meanwhile my apartment was getting muggier and muggier and I was getting sweatier and sweatier from looking so hard, but I knew there was no real point to turning a fan on because I'd be leaving soon. Finally after ten minutes of searching and sweating, I decided that nothing says true friendship like not giving people celery, so Jim and I decided to go out and say hi without celery in tow.
When I told this story to Kevin last night, he said, "Oh. There was a bag of celery in one of Jim's toy containers. I was wondering what it was doing there."
Guys. It's obviously hard enough for me to keep track of things without someone else actively squirreling things away. Since Jim has also recently discovered the joys of the toilet and trash can, I have a bad feeling it's only going to get worse.
I'm doomed.
But then real life happens, and things get disorganized. And then I lose track of things.
Yesterday, that happened again. I was planning to run some errands, but I realized when I was heading out that I didn't know where my keys were. I had used them earlier that morning, so I knew they were somewhere in the apartment.
So I hunted, and hunted, and hunted (and prayed). And finally after fifteen minutes of searching, I found them in the diaper bag (which I had checked twice before). I guess I had dropped them in there instead of into my purse. Phew. Then I realized that I still needed to find the celery I was going to give a friend of mine. The day before, a neighbor had given us more celery from his garden than we could hope to use, so I thought I would share some. I mean, nothing says true friendship like celery.
But I didn't know where it had gone. So I hunted, and hunted, and hunted again. Checked the fridge, checked the trash (you never know), checked the diaper bag. Nothing. Meanwhile my apartment was getting muggier and muggier and I was getting sweatier and sweatier from looking so hard, but I knew there was no real point to turning a fan on because I'd be leaving soon. Finally after ten minutes of searching and sweating, I decided that nothing says true friendship like not giving people celery, so Jim and I decided to go out and say hi without celery in tow.
When I told this story to Kevin last night, he said, "Oh. There was a bag of celery in one of Jim's toy containers. I was wondering what it was doing there."
Guys. It's obviously hard enough for me to keep track of things without someone else actively squirreling things away. Since Jim has also recently discovered the joys of the toilet and trash can, I have a bad feeling it's only going to get worse.
I'm doomed.
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