You’d think I was going to write about two different people who are on opposite ends of the adaptability spectrum.
Just one person.
I’m on both ends.
Lately, I’ve been whining about analyzing the effects of changes in my routine. My brain and body seem to physically resist the changes I’m forced to make.
And yet . . . in other areas, I adapt without even thinking about it. I go with the flow. Roll with the tide. Ride the waves. Or any number of other water-based-analogies.
Like in my laundry room pictured above. Last night, as I was starting on Laundry Day, I found myself getting annoyed because of all the bending and maneuvering that was required to get to the washing machine.
Y’know. Because of the chair that was in the way.
The chair that some battery-needing-child had placed there.
Adapting to this obstacle, though annoying, came very naturally to me. The realization that I could move that chair back to the dining room?
Not natural. At all.
Thankfully, my brain is changing and it did occur to me how ridiculous it was to leave it there, and I moved it.
(And then moved it back to the laundry room to take a picture, and back again to the dining room.)
The common thread in both of these extremes . . . is my home.
My Slob Vision doesn’t see the things that are out of order, even when those things make life difficult. To combat this vision issue, I’ve created routines that make me see the clutter/dirt/trash-on-the-floor. Changing those routines scares me to death because I know I can’t depend on my Slob Vision to remind me to do the tasks. I have to have the routines.
And after mulling over this post in my mind last night, it occurred to me this morning that the reason I was so annoyed that I “didn’t have ANY room to move around in my kitchen” . . . was that there were two ice-chests and another dining room chair in the middle of the floor.