I think I’ve probably pointed out before that I am a stress cleaner. My house doesn’t seem to get a deep clean unless something is really bugging me. I’d love to be one of those people who keeps an immaculate home all the time—a place for everything and everything in its place kind of person. I admire all that order. There is something calming about a lack of clutter. Something inviting about the lack of grime. My fantasy life is full of pantries with perfectly labeled spice jars, lined up with their identical fronts facing out. And steel framed racks with fabric baskets holding all my cleaning supplies; which, coincidentally, are all made by the same company and therefore co-ordinate. Mish-mash is not a part of this world; there is no place for tufts of dog and cat hair to accumulate in corners. If it does, it’s quickly sucked up with my powerful, yet stylish, mini-vac that is stored in the laundry space on the wall dedicated to such implements. The debris of small children is banished to a far-away place called somebody else’s house and there is not a finger-print to be found on any painted surface.
Yes, that’s right. My fantasy life is a Pottery Barn catalog.
I would point out that the make-believe inhabitants of the Pottery Barn catalog do not have a dog and a cat, and their children are clearly just cut-out cardboard figurines who know how to keep a room tidy. But the truth is, I’ve met these people in real life. And they do have dogs. They do have cats. And somehow, they’ve trained their children to pick up after themselves. There are people in this world whose homes make magazine spreads, people in this world who manage to organize their spaces in such a way that their home always appears to be clean. People who enjoy organizing and cannot imagine grime of any kind because they have never seen it.
I am not one of these people. It is not that the fantasy isn’t possible. It is. It’s just not who I am. No amount of organizing will alter my DNA. Somewhere in a helix of neucleotides there is a gene labeled “SLOB”. . . the benefactor of this quirky gene is still unknown.
My mother, bless her, is my genetic opposite. She is hardwired for order and cleanliness. She is one of those women who people accurately describe as a neat-freak. Our floors were “clean enough to eat on.” This was her bragging right, and she was entitled to it considering it was true. My room, of course, being the one exception to perfection. Growing up, this clash of genetic properties created its own sort of drama. Try as she might, she just couldn’t get me to keep my room tidy. In my own defense, I did actually CLEAN my room—every time it was suggested I do so. It’s just that my room would no sooner pass inspection that it would fall into disarray. This little phenomenon played itself over and over until she just gave up. I settled into my clutter and she ignored my room.
While I didn’t get the gene that could keep things clean. I did get the conditioning that said I should. I’ve never been able to shake it. It’s why, hours before people come over I find myself dashing around like a crazy person attempting to manage the clutter. Maintaining order is no small feat. Compelling order from chaos, is an act of God. Which is why, these dashes to clean barely scratch the surface. There is only time enough to make things presentable—as I’ve allowed all previous attempts at organization to fall into disarray. Dusted, vacuumed, grime banished. Just don’t open any drawers.
I am surface clean. (and the preacher in me is going to avoid the obvious sermon here!) It’s better than not being surface clean. It could be worse, I’ve seen my son’s room. He is a child born without either the compulsion or the ability to clean. At least I know how, right? Or so I console myself.
So, it takes making me really angry to get anything organized beyond the top layer. Or, a whim. And a few months ago (yes, yes, this is my point!) IZ and I bought some drawer organizers for the kitchen. They have sat in their boxes for the past 6 weeks, mocking my chaos. Who knew cardboard could be so sarcastic. Why my neat-nic of a husband thought I would be the person to install them is beyond me. I mean, the kitchen is considered his domain since I’m banned from cooking. Something about burning down the house. Six weeks later, I have managed to bust them out of their sarcastic packaging. I have installed them and compelled order.
I’d feel good about it, elated in fact, if I did not know that my underwear drawer looks like this:
I can dust, vacuum, and banish grime. That much you can see on the surface. I just wouldn’t recommend opening any drawers besides the ones in the kitchen.
LOL – does the fact that it took six weeks to implement these organizers mean that you haven’t been under adequate stress until now? Your last picture looks like it exploded out at you. I would say you have “dangerous drawers” and we should think about putting warning stickers on the outside of them… π
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Mock all you like, but at least I put my clothes away. And, dangerous drawers… I’m not touching that. But I’m guessing there are a few readers *coughBonniecough* who might not be able to resist the double entendre. π And yeah, life is good. Very good. Which explains the state of my spaces… have you seen my workspace. CRINGE ~W
I might also mention that those people in magazines – uh yeah – they have housecleaners that come in and do the deep cleaning – when it is one person against a family of grime builders – it is a totally different thing than when you have a “team” to help keep everything neat and tidy. Ask your Patron Saint how many interns does it take to clean a kitchen – I’ll bet it is more than two…
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Well, then, explain the people in real life who manage that look! ~W
My fantasy life is also a Pottery Barn catalog.
Did you ever read The Diary of a Mad Housewife? There’s this great scene where she soothes herself to sleep by imagining that she is walking through her home, which is immaculately clean and organized, and she opens different cabinets and closets and surveys the neatly folded sheets and towels in coordinating colors. I first read that book when I was much too young to understand any of it, but that scene stayed with me.
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I haven’t read it, but apparently I should! I can imagine that being soothing. π ~W
I would like an immaculate house, and mine does kind of look that way. Just don’t look in drawers or cupboards either! Your underwear are pretty!
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Heh… that drawer is an absolute mess… always. I’ve given up trying to keep it all tidy. π ~W
Everything looks lovely and artistic! Sharpened pencils, chopsticks, and silver – divine! Your lingerie drawers are rosewood, n’est-ce pas?
Babette has a secret: she doesn’t need an underwear drawer. Mum’s the word on that, of course.
I saw the movie based on that book, Miz S, but all I remember is Frank Langella and I’m not referring to his acting.
I wouldn’t touch your dangerous drawers with a 10 foot pole, Wende.
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Oh my, Bonnie. π And I don’t know about the rosewood…it could be. I think of it as a junky piece of furniture, to be honest… but calling it rosewood kinda puts a new spin on the old thing. What you can’t see, is that I have a vintage piece of velvet on top of it to hide all the stains it picked up in its former life… the velvet is the first thing IZ and I ever bought for our home, while we were still children and dating. π
I’m sorry but this is just too scary over here. Frist of all, I don’t want to hear that we are this similar- for some reason that makes me nervous. First, it was organizing M&Ms by color, now it’s cleaning under the influence of anger. (And what kind of rage were you in to put fast food condiments next to pencils?) Then there’s Ms. Bonnie’s comment…which might explain everything.
I’m leaving now, going over to Twitter to gossip.
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It’s weird, I wasn’t in a rage of any form this time. But those stupid organizers were getting on my nerves. We’d perched them in the laundry room and I SWEAR I heard them laughing at me every time I went in to do the laundry. We do a lot of laundry, hence a LOT of mocking. I couldn’t take it any longer. Do you hear voices too?? And I know why I clean in anger, what’s your excuse… oh, but that little phrase “in anger” reminds me of a song lyric that I like to twist… the original lyric is this, “don’t look back in anger”… but I like to sing, “don’t go clean in anger”. And THAT leads me to this video. Admit it, I would have been a FABULOUS therapy patient! π ~W
Oh, I always run around the house cleaning up and then swearing out loud that it will always look like that from now on…and I will not be too lazy to “do it perfect the first time” it lasts a couple of days…and then chaos sneaks itself back in…I tried to organize my socks not too long ago…I realize that I just have too many pairs and it’s a loosing game…and much easier to cram and shut and just root around for the right one’s when I need them…sigh.
(thank goodness the cat doesn’t care)
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Perfection is over-rated. I draw the line with the health-inspector. Clutter is acceptable… germs, not so much. π ~W
Forgive my intrusion into the middle of this group (again) but every time I find a new home from one of you, I find another new kindred spirit. Blame Vicki.
I have those same drawer organizers. I have a compulsion for neatness as well. And dangerous drawers [we speak of the same kind – I think ;)], too. When we moved into this new (much smaller) home last spring, I brought only barest necessities leaving all else in storage and have been weeding things as I’ve unpacked because I have so much less room here. I’m having some degree of difficulty staying as organized as I wanted.
Let’s just say I envisioned the organization of which you speak and I’ve landed somewhat below that mark (by a lot).
Mostly I wanted to add (laughing because I think you and others will too) that the drawers in my drawers have their own organizers, purchased from Ikea, if you are interested… π
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Hi Keri! Welcome… you’re not intruding in the least. π But, uh, I’m gonna blame Vicki none-the-less because she disses me in the comment section on Miz S’s blog and she has it coming. ha ha.
And Ikea is the devil. It is, I’m sorry, but it is. It sings this siren song to all us pathetic types… As if buying organizational items will actually make me organized. And I buy it. I do! I buy the lie and the products… only to find I’m useless. Completely incapable of keeping form. But I appreciate the tip… what section EXACTLY did you find them?? π
And I hope you come back… if only to see Vicki sputter. π ~W
LOL. I sooooo wish that I had your compulsion to clean when angry. I get angry a lot and it would be good for my house. I really avoid cleaning. My only friends whose houses are clean all the time have housekeepers. The only time my house has been clean regularly and even organized was when I had a housekeeper coming in regularly. We need to do that again now that I’m working again. The best was when our house was on the market – housekeeper once a week and buyers on no set schedule — I kept up with the clutter and was a happier person for it. But, I can’t maintain that unless I have to. I need to have a housekeeper and then invite people for dinner once a week — then I’d keep the house clean. π It’s a plan!
Good job, Wen! I don’t know that at my house I would even be able to keep the organizers organized, ya know what I mean?!
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Yeah, that’s my fear too. We shall see… I’ll keep you posted. π ~W
Oh I love the drawer project. I always tell myself to organize one cupboard, drawer or messy area a week.. But I don’t listen to myself. And I give myself such good advise!
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That’s funny—I do the same thing! And yeah, I give GREAT advice. π ~W
I went searching for an “angry cleaning song” and couldn’t find one. I found this video which *made* me angry – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3JFmbBqVJZg – I mean come on – how stupid do they think kids are? Cleaning *would* be fun if you had a magic duster like they did… And NO – a vacuum doesn’t count as a magic duster.
Speaking of the pre-school set – some uh, rather interesting suggestions on brainwashing kids to clean can found at http://www.perpetualpreschool.com/cleaning_up.htm
Clean Up Song tune-Twinkle Little Star
Twinkle, twinkle little star
Time to clean up where you are
Put each toy back in its place
Keep a smile upon your face
Twinkle, twinkle little star
Time to clean up where you are.
Clean Up Song Sung to: London Bridges
(ChildΓ’β¬β’s name) put the toys away
Toys away, toys away.
(ChildΓ’β¬β’s name) put the toys away.
ItΓ’β¬β’s cleanup time.
Additional verses: Substitute toys with puzzles, books, blocks, etc.
Clean Up Time (Sung to Oh My Darlin Clementine)
Time to clean up
Time to clean up pleeezzzeeeee
Let’s all help to clean our classroom
So we can go to circle time (or next activity in your schedule)
I wonder if *any* of these actually work. I think looking back G would have just sat and laughed at me. π
Calling all you song-writers out there… we need an “Angry Cleaning Song…”
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Oh my goodness… how much time did you take researching this? π And I think you’re right… this wouldn’t work with our kid. But I’m guessing a lot of kids would love it! ~W
Ikea IS the devil. I’m in complete agreement with you there. They suck you IN to the store and then have you circling around and around and around and they don’t let you out until you are collapsing exhausted on the ground. Oh sure. There’s arrows on the floor directing you, but they move. I swear, they move.
I found these particular fabric boxes (they come in a packet of six different sizes, folded and zipped along the bottom – made by komplement) in a big bin – SURPRISE! – near the bedroom closet set ups.
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I refuse to go into that store this time of year… madness. But I’m going to check out the catalog. Because those sound PERFECT! π ~W
Ok! No one can open a closet or look in a drawer now days, caution must be taken to prevent bodily harm from falling objects. Yes I have arrived at only looking good on the out side, I am the only one who looks anyway. I finally found out, to late I must admit it’s lots more fun to play than clean. So no more mad hours doing what really makes little difference in the long run. Your Dad can finally enjoy hanging his pants on the floor so he can always find them…. But in my heart I would love to have everything in its place now I just pray I can find the place I left it, the mind is fast fading. . . age catching up with a desire to just get it done…
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I’m laughing at the “Your dad can finally enjoy hanging his pants on the floor.” Ha! I know where G gets it from! Although, G prefers to “hang” his pants under his bed. π ~W
Pants under the bed? – those are folded & put away! π
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Sadly, that’s probably his impression. π ~W