My parents were very clean, orderly people. When I say you could eat off of my mother’s floors, you pretty much could (you could probably eat off of the toilet seat too, but, you know, ew). I was expected to make my bed every single day, fold, hang, and put away my clothes, etc. I wouldn’t dare leave a dish in the sink or a sock on the floor. That just didn’t happen in the Platt household. But when I moved to Ohio and started living on my own, my 20+ years of (vaguely German) neatness training started to unravel. There were many reasons—rebellion, laziness, too much partying, and the insanity of the grad school schedule. To this day, I can tell when it’s nearly midterms because my apartment looks like a bomb hit it, and I’m not even in grad school anymore. I’m an actual adult. With an actual job. I turned 35 less than a week ago. AREN’T 35-YEAR-OLDS SUPPOSED TO HAVE THEIR SHIT TOGETHER???
My point in all of this is that having your shit together means you have to prioritize, and sometimes keeping neat and tidy—the quality that marked one as responsible and good in my late mother’s eyes—gets kicked to the bottom right quadrant. So, guess what I’m not doing this break? Cleaning. Organizing. Sorting and filing and scanning. Even though I sorely need to. But there are some other things I sorely need to do more.
What I got accomplished today:
- Bathed, dressed, and fed myself (bonus—put on makeup!)
- Made the bed
- Paid some more bills
- Finished a conference proposal
- Cleaned all the expired food out of the fridge
- Took out the trash
- Planned meals for the next 5 days
- Went grocery shopping
- Made two doctors appointments
- Prepped lessons for one of my two classes for next week
- Did my daily IWCA conference tweeting
- Wrote this shit right here again
Tune in tomorrow for Rule 3.