There is something seriously wrong with me

I have a disease. OK, maybe not a disease, but at the very least I'm quite certain that if I were to seek professional help, a Dr. would have a name for this affliction. Recently my friend compared me to an old woman she saw on TV who hoarded everything from cereal boxes to used cat litter, convinced she could make good use of it. Well, I am one if those people. I simply cannot throw anything in the trash without feeling a pang of horrible guilt. I have to take a closer look at the alleged 'garbage' and ask myself, "Why must I purge this? Couldn't I find something to do with it before tossing it?" While I recognize this is a redeeming quality, I have gone somewhat overboard. This is a problem because 1) I irrationally convince myself that I have abilities beyond the super-human mind to turn anything one would deem 'refuse' into something practical and 2) I am a HUGE flake. A great idea soon becomes an onus that I can't seem to achieve because in reality I am a mother of three who suffers from ADD, I'm lucky if I can stay on top of feeding my own children on a daily basis (or I should say they are lucky).

I recently took stock of my hoarding and decided to document my steps in ridding my house of these barriers between myself and my sanity. I am starting with the kitchen for reasons mentioned on my last post. Behold the fruits of my recent labors.

Paper bags and mandarin crates:

Expired food:

Bottle caps

um...I've decided to keep these.

More mandarin crates (this one actually serves a purpose)

Baby food jars (this represents only a fraction):

I was saving them for bead storage and then I realized, I gave away my beads.

And the root of all evil...plastic grocery bags!

I'm so embarrassed...

A Family Infirm

The nasty cold bug has been dutiful in its rounds this season. It reared its ugly head in mid December, late January and again just a couple weeks later. I pray the encroaching spring will be kinder.

One morning earlier this month I staggered from bed, my head pounding, my chest aching. I could feel the house quake with each cough coming from all ends of the house. A haze of funk loomed over our street, the neighborhood steeped in miasma. What I needed was to return to the warm confines of my bed. But I was so desperate to escape hibernation. I went to the kitchen in search of a suitable source of caffeine. What I found left me speechless. So speechless in fact, that I grabbed my camera.

From that moment on, my kitchen has had little chance to recuperate. Between recoveries, each member of the family has done their part to reduce the sink to little more than an In-Sink-Erator; yet we have no disposal. Often I come to find the basin filled with cereal, milk, tea bags and floaters of an unknown origin and then see that the drain stoppers are sitting out of harm’s way on the counter. How did this happen? When did animals take up residence in this house? This whole situation is much like going to the gym; you only see results when you commit to go every day. Except in this analogy, it’s like I have to expect my entire family to work out every day just so I can lose ten pounds!

It may take a while before my kitchen becomes what it once was; an acceptably messy, lived-in room that serves its purpose adequately. I long for the days when making a cup of tea doesn’t require clamping a clothes pin to my nose just to empty the sink so that I can wash a mug.

Getting there is...getting there

We're not out of the woods yet, but close. The whole family except Oona (knock wood) has been hit with the crud. It seems to come and go just in time for another member of the clan to catch the next wave. Soon I will be blogging like a madwoman...