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Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Ad for Dysfunction

I need an entourage.

That is just a fancy way of saying I need some people to boss around.  People that will do what I want and the way I want.  Maybe I should run an ad.

Talented, Busy Wife and Mommy of 3 Seeking Entourage

Must be clean, tidy and organized.  Must love to label EVERYTHING and know the difference between a good label (I made it) and a bad label (manufacturer's sticker and/or price tags that are meant to be removed after purchase...duh!).  Must have appreciation for my systems already in place and NOT TRY TO CHANGE OR REARRANGE (there are pictures for placement purposes and a video cam that may or may not be working at any given moment...even if it appears NOT to be plugged in.  Ignore the dangling IS a wireless device.  WHAT?!?  It IS!).  Must understand that there is a place for EVERYTHING and quickly learn where that is.  Must never utter the words, "Control Freak".  Must love lists. MUST have the ability and desire to finish what is started.  I haven't the time the see after someone else's, "I was gunnas".  Must be strong and able to move furniture pieces as fast as I change my mind without complaint.  Knowledge of simple tools is required.  ABSOLUTELY can never, ever listen to my DH, aka "Dooms Day James"!  He will try to sabotage and talk you out of everything saying it can't be done.  This requires great strength to not roll ones eyes.  There will be a test for this.  Must be willing and able to sew, paint, refinish and construct.  Must have a really great sense of will need it. Pay: A glass of wine as we stand, stare and admire each project upon it's completion.  Label maker required (a laminator is a plus!)

Who wouldn't want this position?

There is too much for me to do.  Hell, when I was "healthy", there was too much for me to do.  My basement is beginning to look like one of those on Hoarders.  Actually, I think it may qualify for a The Best of Hoarders, episode.  My body can no longer even begin to keep up with the ideas and desires in my crazy (albeit, very talented) head of mine.

OK, so a clean version of Hoarders.  I have issues.  I will leave it at that.  Those who know and love me, know that I could NEVER survive in an atmosphere like that.  So, you can understand how the amount of clutter is weighing on me.  These people I live with (that I truly love with all my heart) are driving me beyond batty! I was not groomed for this type of dysfunction!  My mother made the best of the Troyer Farms potato chip BOXES (oh yeah, remember those? ).  They used to line my toy box (after she covered them with them in the leftover psychedelic wall paper from my bedroom...oh yeah, it was that bad.  Partridge Family bus bad.  No joke.)  and provided neat divisions and places for each category of toy.  No cross-contamination was ever allowed or accepted.  Ever. And in the event such a horror should occur, the entire contents were dumped in the middle of the floor to be sorted and placed back in their rightful spots once again.  My PLAY kitchen, resembled that of the one from the movie, "Sleeping with the Enemy".  And of course, the actual kitchen in our home growing up.

***There is a violation in the above picture.  The bag of rice should be emptied into a plastic, food safe container and labeled.  Cooking instructions should be neatly cut out and adhered to said container.  Remembering to place the container on the appropriate shelf, label side out and according to size.  And by the way, I pulled this picture from the Internet.  I don't eat clams from a can.

My dad, well that is a whole other issue.  He is JUST like my mother.  How those two found each other, I will never know.  NOTHING in their house is out of place.  Nothing.  So it is easy for them to be ultra critical when they come to mine.  I live with pigs.  No one is on my team.  And I certainly wouldn't pick any of them to be on mine.  Did you read...they are PIGS!  They are a team of four working against my team of one.  Oh...they are good!  They are my secret weapon.  I am waiting for that day.  That very wrong, awful day when my parents pick the wrong moment to criticize the state of our home.  I am sending my crew of four over to do their best.  Things will never be the same.  I know where to hit.  Clothes will no longer be hung by color.  Socks will be unballed and left to frolic and run amuck...some may even be left *GASP* single!  A nail may find it's way in to the screw bin.  My mom has the same issue with stickers as I do (SURPRISE!) so I will hand one child a sticker gun.  Oh!  The mayhem!!  The absolute glorious MAYHEM!  As my secret weapons depart, I shall have them place one stray leaf on the driveway and maybe a blade of grass too.

I am a child of order.  I crave it.  Yet, somehow I have managed to find bliss in this chaos.  Don't get me wrong, I am placing that ad because sometimes, and seemingly uncontrollably, labeled dysfunction tries to trump chaotic bliss. :0)

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