If I am considered tidy during the weekdays it is only because it is a basic requirement for functioning. In other words, a lack of order causes problems for us and slows us down as a family so we spend extra energy keeping things neat so we can find it the next day.
But what happens on the weekend when we purposefully slow down? Then, tidy falls away to reveal a home where every surface is the repository of ongoing projects (both the kid's and mine), things to do and things not put away because we are finally relaxing.
It used to really upset me because I had this fantasy of a clean living room in which to read my favorite sections of the paper. A leisurely breakfast over a nice table free of crust and crumbs. (Wait a minute, that was not a fantasy, that was a flashback to a time before kids.)
Now that I am 40 and ever so mellowed (that's what the script says) I am trying to be zen about these irrelevant things in the hopes of delaying diseases caused by high blood pressure. Seriously.
As an organizer I feel three things at once:
- Unnerved by the growing disorder because I see how it feeds itself.
- Inspired that some things are getting done around the house.
- A cozy, belonging in my home, as if it were a living breathing imperfect but loved thing.
By the time Sunday rolls around I start to feel the push to restore things to workable order. I need things to be in place before we begin our week. I also lament all that was on my to do list that didn't happen.