I've got a not-so-rare genetic disease. I got it from my mom. My sisters have it, too, but theirs isn't as severe.
When I was home in March, we couldn't park Maxwell (my dad's car) in the garage because there were new windows there. They couldn't put the new windows in until the wood floor on the first floor was refinished. They couldn't refinish the floor until they (a) decided on a color (b) sanded down all of the footboards in the entire house and refinished those with three coats of varnish. Yes, my mother on her hands and knees sanding the upstairs bathroom (with linoleum floor and no windows) is getting us one step closer to a refinished wood floor and replaced windows. Two months later, the windows are still in the garage. This is our disease: the inability to complete one project before moving on to the next.
My arrival home spurred a big episode...
My task: unpack the cars and fit everything into my bedroom or under the ping pong table downstairs. The living room make be borrowed but only until Laura's graduation party in late June.
Step One: clean the bedroom
This means all of the papers previously heaped neatly in the corner under the window are now sorted in piles and scattered across the room. Before finding homes for all of these "important documents" I moved on to step two.
Step Two: Operation Bookshelf
My family's notorious for trying to fit too much furniture in a single room. Right now, that room is my bedroom. It's already full with a matching bedroom set, I've added two white CD cases, and now a Dad-made bookshelf. Problem: there is no wall space for the bookshelf. I began sorting and piling next to the door to find a space for said bookshelf, thus adding to the mountains of paper sorted neatly all over the room. I also entertian the idea of rearranging every piece of furniture in my bedroom in order to accomodate said bookshelf. However, I then remember Mom and I have no upper body strength and Dad's not allowed to lift anything heavy. He's never been one for the rules, so I don't dare tempt him. Time to move on to step three.
Step Three: You have a window seat?
Well, a windowseat for the cats. It's so full of stuff animals that sometimes I'm working in my room for a solid five minutes before I realize one of my stuff animals is moving... hello, Cow (our holstein kitty whose name is really Sparkle). All of the stuff animals have been sorted into two piles: keep, donate. Donate pile moves to Mom and Dad's bedroom. Keep pile stays on my bed. Long-term they go into a plastic tub I have in the basement, but, go figure, it's on the bottom of the stack of tubs. Dad's still not allowed to lift anything heavy.
Step Four: Put photos in picture frames
You've had those picture frames for years; maybe it's time you put something in them. Go downstairs to the computer with a printer and search for the perfect photos. While you're waiting for the page to load, waste no time and blog a little bit. Make sure to read Kevin's hilarious blog about the humbling experience that was dislocating his shoulder. (Yes, Mr. "Katie, you update too much" forgot about his blog for a month... at least I'm loyal to my readers)
Step Five: Dad wants his car back
Translation: get your dorm room out of Maxwell. Freshman year, my dorm room lived in the living room all summer. Last year, it was almost a month before I unpacked my car (named Andy). We'll see what happens this year.
Step Six: Bedtime.
Oh, snap. I have a bed? And a safe fire escape for the middle of the night? Let's put these papers into a nice pile under the window, the stuff animals can live on the windowseat, and the bookshelf can chill in the middle of the room. What a successful day! :-)
Do you have this disease too? To my knowledge there is no known cure. However, books have be written about this horrible condition. They are entitled: If You Give a Moose a Muffin and If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Check them out at your local library, don't forget to put gas in your car and pick up cheese at the grocery store on the way there.