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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/1M3jEnZ:
So I’m not good at organization.
This is a laughable understatement. I have some kind of weird I don’t understand it processing issue where if something is put away, I either forget it exists or don’t want to disturb it. if you take, for example, my shoes, and put them into a pile in a closet, you may as well have just thrown them away; I will no longer wear those shoes, I will forget I own them, I may occasionally spend a moment being sad because I thought I had shoes that fit this particular purpose but I seem not to.
It’s like fucking magic. if I can see things, I will use them. If I can’t see things, they don’t exist.
It took me many many years of questionable-adulthood to understand this about myself, but in recent years I’ve started to understand it. The issue is, I live in a shoebox of a house, so putting in a shoe rack– well, every shoe rack I’ve bought has been wildly inappropriate in size or shape or something. My issue is, the only space in my house for shoes is either scattered about the floor, or in an invisible pile in the closet.
So I have shoes scattered about the floor, and there are only a few designated spots where I leave them, and when they’ve roamed beyond those spots I do try to corral them.
Dude hates this. He owns one pair of shoes, and takes it off in a different place every day and occasionally has to wander around looking for it, but since he only owns one pair, it is hardly a huge mess. I don’t know if he fully understands that this is because he is a man, and so absent any athletic or specialty hobbies, a pair of reasonable-looking leather chukka boots is actually perfectly functional as all-purpose footwear. He does not wear shorts, and so his attire is always either khakis, casual dress pants, jeans, or a suit.
I am a woman. My attire is skirts, dresses, jeans, dress pants, casual pants, yoga pants, shorts, short-shorts with glitter on them, and many variations in between. I cannot wear leather chukkas daily. I have to wear shoes that match. Even excluding heels, which my damaged ankles did for years, I still am expected to, and expect to, have shoes that match the seasonality, tone, formalness, and color of my outfit.
So in essence, we have the same exact shoe storage solution, so holding the cat in his arms and muttering a sarcastic description of every pair of shoes he finds throughout the house is not actually a particularly reasonable thing to do.
I know he’s just bitter because he took his slippers off to change into his boots last night and can’t remember where he did it, and so has no slippers to wear today, but it still makes me grumpy.
(Also, I live elsewhere nearly fifty percent of the time, and I come back every time and he has not felt stirred to do any cleaning or reorganizing or anything drastic. Why is it that when I am here is when he decides to go on this massive seasonal-reorganization spree that mostly consists of him muttering about what a disorganized slob I am? I am having a rather distressing weekend.)
So I’m not good at organization.
This is a laughable understatement. I have some kind of weird I don’t understand it processing issue where if something is put away, I either forget it exists or don’t want to disturb it. if you take, for example, my shoes, and put them into a pile in a closet, you may as well have just thrown them away; I will no longer wear those shoes, I will forget I own them, I may occasionally spend a moment being sad because I thought I had shoes that fit this particular purpose but I seem not to.
It’s like fucking magic. if I can see things, I will use them. If I can’t see things, they don’t exist.
It took me many many years of questionable-adulthood to understand this about myself, but in recent years I’ve started to understand it. The issue is, I live in a shoebox of a house, so putting in a shoe rack– well, every shoe rack I’ve bought has been wildly inappropriate in size or shape or something. My issue is, the only space in my house for shoes is either scattered about the floor, or in an invisible pile in the closet.
So I have shoes scattered about the floor, and there are only a few designated spots where I leave them, and when they’ve roamed beyond those spots I do try to corral them.
Dude hates this. He owns one pair of shoes, and takes it off in a different place every day and occasionally has to wander around looking for it, but since he only owns one pair, it is hardly a huge mess. I don’t know if he fully understands that this is because he is a man, and so absent any athletic or specialty hobbies, a pair of reasonable-looking leather chukka boots is actually perfectly functional as all-purpose footwear. He does not wear shorts, and so his attire is always either khakis, casual dress pants, jeans, or a suit.
I am a woman. My attire is skirts, dresses, jeans, dress pants, casual pants, yoga pants, shorts, short-shorts with glitter on them, and many variations in between. I cannot wear leather chukkas daily. I have to wear shoes that match. Even excluding heels, which my damaged ankles did for years, I still am expected to, and expect to, have shoes that match the seasonality, tone, formalness, and color of my outfit.
So in essence, we have the same exact shoe storage solution, so holding the cat in his arms and muttering a sarcastic description of every pair of shoes he finds throughout the house is not actually a particularly reasonable thing to do.
I know he’s just bitter because he took his slippers off to change into his boots last night and can’t remember where he did it, and so has no slippers to wear today, but it still makes me grumpy.
(Also, I live elsewhere nearly fifty percent of the time, and I come back every time and he has not felt stirred to do any cleaning or reorganizing or anything drastic. Why is it that when I am here is when he decides to go on this massive seasonal-reorganization spree that mostly consists of him muttering about what a disorganized slob I am? I am having a rather distressing weekend.)
