This slob-problem gets me so unbelievably frustrated sometimes.
Here on the blog, I’ve decided to face the problem head-on. Calling myself a slob, admitting when lame excuses are . . . . well . . . lame, being totally honest with myself about how my brain does and doesn’t function.
But even though I have accepted that I am a slob, and am willing to roll my eyes at myself, find the humor, and hopefully make my readers laugh on occasion . . . I’d really rather not be a slob.
Motivated by the fact that the bug man is coming tomorrow morning, I did my final go-around-the-house-and-look-realistically-at-the-too-many-piles-shoved-into-corners.
I felt hopeless.
Really? I’ve been working on this deslobification process for a year now, and I have soooooo far to go. I get frustrated that something that should be as easy as a quick pick-up session for a normal person has taken me a week, just to get to “good enough.”
I know I’ll get there. Another year of work, and maybe an event like this won’t be such a big deal.
I hope so.