I wish I could close my eyes and have a Marie-Kondo-like fairy with special mind reading powers come and magically make everything tidy. She’d need to read my mind so that she doesn’t throw out anything I still want, and she’d need to have powers so that I don’t have to do any of it myself. Alas, that’s never going to happen.
So far I have a pile of clean laundry that I’ve refused to touch. I’ve been trying to talk myself into the part where I take out everything and only put back what I want. Ugh! Where’s that magic wand!
You know what I’d love to achieve? Actually wanting to do this. I love the feeling after, but the actual process turns me into a belligerent eight year old. I just don’t wanna. How this happened, I’ll never know. My mother loves organizing—especially clothes—and my dad dislikes junk. He’d rather just toss things than let them pile up. I swear, if I didn’t look so much like them, I’d suspect I was adopted.
The madness begins tomorrow. This year the deadline is an out-of-town guest. I have until the 16th to purge and organize, or have our visitor sleeping on (or under) piles of clothes.
Wish me luck.
Pic note: Yeah, that’s not me, but I’m busy mentally pouting right now, so she will have to do. Thank you to Lina Kivaka for capturing exactly how I feel about this.