Mess and clutter? Utter disorganization? What's a crafty comfort queen to do?

This blog is to be the chronicle of my attempts to learn home economics. Creative, DIY home and life management with an indie, crafty, green flair. Responsible and personally expressive "mistressing" of all that stuff that falls into the "life" category.

I'm crafting my own version of domesticity based on the indie craft and DIY movements and teachers like the writers of BUST, Pagan Kennedy, and Ariel Gore (not your grandma's housekeeping). Being house-proud has always been a struggle, but it's time to get it together. As of this moment, I embrace my domestic side, heavy on the irony of course (not your grandma's housekeeping)...and vow to change my ways and channel my inner Pagan Kennedy (the Martha for non-Marthas).

Feedback is welcome. Tips are appreciated. And if you have an uncontrollable desire to come and be my maid, the big pink door is open.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Self-Flagellation, Nerf Darts, and Naps

Tragically, I have a fatal flaw.  I have ideas that zing through my brain like Nerf darts, bouncing off of all the other ones and creating new and glorious hybrid darts that inspire excitement and wonder.  This is not the flaw.  The flaw is that the darts always fall to my brain-floor eventually without ever reaching their destination.  True, destination is not as important as journey, but I'd like to finish something.  Or continue something.

But kudos to me, I'm still keeping up with this blog.  Sometimes I slack for a few days, but I have made a commitment, so I am sticking to it.  Keeping up with the blog is good, but the blog is about keeping up with my life. Hmmmm. Only half done, as usual. [note to work people: I am only this way at home.]

I need to make a commitment to making my bed.  I think that's what started this.  I made my bed this morning, and I honestly haven't done it since the time I wrote about it in an earlier post.  It's been a while.  And so making my bed actually made me feel bad. Sort of counterproductive. 

We women do that to ourselves, don't we?  Damned if we do, damned if we don't.  Damned if we do half.  Damned if we overdo it.  My brain gets tired of berating me, and of course of picking up all the Nerf darts that I left on the floor.  So it gives up.  Damned if I don't is the easiest of the damned truisms.  Obviously. 

But I don't want to do that anymore.  Recognizing is half the battle.  Ack, just the thought of another battle makes me tired.  I'm going to take a nap.

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