I’m so organized. Papers in my house are filed away meticulously.
Unless the papers happen to be bills, mail, cards, school work, banking statments, envelopes, or birth certificates. Can’t find any of those. I sort and stack, sort and stack until I’ve made six different piles and by then, I can’t remember the sorting criteria I started with. These paper piles can be found in each and every room of my house. Where’s that picture form I need to return to preschool? The water bill? I search my piles and come up empty handed. Oh wait, here’s that check I’ve been looking for! I knew I put it in here. I’m just so organized.
I’m so organized. Clothing is laundered, sorted and neatly stacked in dresser drawers immediately.
Unless, the clothing belongs to me. Or Jamie. Or Jackson. Or Parker. Those clothes hang out in the hamper until the hamper gets full to the brim and the clothing begins to cascade downward onto the floor. Once this happens, no one even bothers with the hamper. They just throw all articles of clothing on the bedroom, bathroom, or living room floor. Matching socks? What are those? Ain’t nobody got time for that. Underwear? Entirely optional. Eventually the clothes make it to the washer. They are dried and then piled high onto my bed. Before I go to sleep that night, I move the pile from my bed to the top of my dresser. They wait there for several days. Eventually, they are folded and sorted into piles for each family member. Then they are transferred to almost empty dresser drawers. At some point, I notice another full basket of clothes in the corner. Clean or dirty? I can’t remember. I give it the smell test. Ugh. Dirty, definitely dirty.
I’m so organized. I know the date, time, and location for every upcoming event for our family.
Unless the event happens to fall on the weekend or a week day. If that’s the case, we aren’t prepared at all. We’ll start getting ready 10 minutes after we should have arrived. We’ll all be wearing our mismatched, dirty socks. I’ll holler at everyone to hurry up. The more I holler, the slower everyone moves. We race out the door and climb into our champagne mini van. After everyone’s buckled in, I look for my keys and realize they are not in my purse. I run back to the house and find the keys sitting on our almost empty wine rack, just like I knew they would be. Off we go! Sometimes we show up to the right place, two hours later than expected and sometimes we show up to the wrong place at the exact right time. If the event is related to a holiday, there is inevitably a few curse words discreetly uttered throughout this process.
I’m so organized. My purse has pockets that hold all essential items such as my wallet, keys, phone, and a pen.
Unless you happen to dig down to the very bottom of it. There you will find an additional 4 plastic dinosaurs, pretzel crumbs, a AAA battery, 45 crumpled receipts, a dog treat, empty fruit snack wrappers, a previously sucked on skittle, hair ties, 2 paper clips, hair cut coupons, 4 Legos, and a partridge in a pear tree.
I’m so organized. The toys are neatly stored in matching bins that allow for easy access and quick clean up in the playroom.
Unless the kids happen to be awake or sleeping. Then everything changes. Puzzle pieces are scattered across the rug. Block towers lay in ruin. 65 matchbox cars are strewn across the entire surface of the sofa. Books pile up on the floor. Train tracks carve pathways through the chaos. When Jackson is looking for his Mack truck, I usually say things like, “Have you checked under your bed? Try the fridge. Then look inside the peace lily plant. I saw it there yesterday.”
Oh yeah, I’m so very, very, organized. Unless I’m breathing. That always seems to throw me off completely.