Have you ever noticed that there are phases in you daily life that no matter how you try to shift, cancel, and reorganise things, life remains totally confused and chaotic? It’s like someone has yanked up the underwear into your crack of life and no twisting and turning helps, everything remains unmanageable and uncomfortable.
Is there a term for yanking up someone’s underwear? It’s like short-sheeting someone’s behind instead of thier bed, isn’t it?
So, back to things turning crazy… I can’t really figure out why it happens. Obviously, I haven’t figured out the why; since this sort of thing continues to occur over and over again. I have experimented with different ways to cope with the chaos, or I’ve even attempted, unsuccessfully, to discover various means to avoid such a state, but I have yet to figure out why everything implodes spontaneously, leaving behind a tremendous mess.
Does this happen to everyone else and they just don’t let on? Am I the only one who knows a lot of fabulous organisers? It can be very inspirational thing to witness someone juggling a thousand appointments at a time. Sometimes though it can be rather intimidating, and at other times rather infuriating, but mostly I am just plain envious. Not envious in the sort of I-am-going-to-turn-over-a-new-leaf way. No, envious in the well-look-at-that-strange-species way.
I find it fascinating to see how others do it and I try to comment and commend my friends or colleagues about how well they organise their lives, but the acknowledgement of their talent doesn’t kick in to my sub-conscious. It’s like knowing a professional concert pianist; hearing them play doesn’t make me want to take up playing the piano myself.
In the end I think the only reason I am mentioning all this is because I listened to a radio program yesterday where They (the two moderators of the show) discussed A Study (who knows from where) that stated getting children involved in household chores makes them into wonderfully socially-intelligent domestically-adaptable creatures. The fact that I don’t do many (any really) household chores well or reliably makes me feel a complete failure as a role model. Oh, well, them’s the breaks.