I feel real bad about another re-post. I don’t know why I keep doing it. NO! I know why! Because: Tired.
Despite resistance from my non-linear brain, I like to be organized. I despise clutter and for mental sanity, need everything in its place. However, nothing has a place in my home, because I am unable to classify stuff. In addition, I am genetically engineering to be unorganized. Actually, I believe that my brain is not wired for organization because I overthink stuff too much, like for instance, my kids’ toy bin.
Let me illustrate.
But first I’ll back up.
To my husband, a rose is a rose is a rose. To me, a rose can be pink or red or yellow or too thorny or not thorny enough or grow in a garden or out in the wild and Good God! There are so many different kinds of roses, gardeners must go crazy with all the rose potential out there.
This makes for interesting arguscussions with The Rock. Because I cannot answer a simple question with a simple answer. There are layers and subtext and hidden meanings and what I say and what I meant and hours upon hours of evaluating and analyzing.
Do not even get me started on where I want to go for dinner.
(Do they have vegetarian options?)
(Unless I don’t feel like vegetarian tonight.)
(Then will there be steak?)
(But can I get it well done?)
(On second thought, no steak.)
(OK. Steak. But with onions.)
(On the side.)
(Also on the side.)
When it comes to my children’s toys, I cannot deal with all the possibilities, which defies easy clean-up. So when it came to classifying Toots’ and Boogers’ toys, I thought I’d resist my over thinking and go real broad to allow for every toy instance and THEN, we’d all know what goes where. So now where The Rock says let’s put all “people” toys in one bin:
I say, let’s put everything with a face on it in a bin. Which means, these two things co-exist in one bin, making little to no common sense:
Also technically, I have a face, so does that mean I should be put in a bin?
(I am going to pretend you did not say that.)
In addition, The Rock says ridiculous stuff like, “Let’s put all balls in one place!”
And I say, “Screw that! I’ll do you one better! Let’s put everything that’s round in one place!”
Come to find that lots of things are round, and that some of those things should not be toys.
Do you see what I mean?
Pretty soon, all anarchy breaks lose and no one knows where to put anything because I’ve other thought (or underthought?) the whole process.
I really really thought that my “All babies in one bin” idea would go over well.
But then stuff like bottles and milk containers and non-baby-body, but technically baby-detritus found its way inside the bin.
And is it me, or do my kids have creepy toys?