Attitudes

OK, OK, if it IS all in my attitude... see below... then I'm taking suggestions, advice, directions - even orders. This funny and sigh-worthy post about entropy, and how our homes just keep marching toward disorder, is so terrifically true.

The advice I seek: how do I change my attitude?

The background: those close to me know I am, oh, um, a bit of a clean freak. And not just a clean-countertops, swept-garage sort of clean freak. I am only satisfied when all papers are filed, closets are organized (color coordinated sometimes), cabinets are stocked, bills are paid, lists are made and no item is in the house that does not get used. Not an extra set of sheets, not a sock that lost its mate, not a painting I've grown bored of, not a birthday card two months out of date. Out, out, out!

The question: with a very high need for cleanliness... which I claim brings me mental clarity and that sought-after, ever-elusive state of "relaxation"... while living in a world that tends toward entropy... how do I adjust expectations?

What mantras do you have, what patterns do you swear by or what magical potion do you seek that lets you embrace entropy from time to time, and still find metal clarity, relaxation, and life lived joyfully (if on the messy side in your very own home!)?

Conquered. (Once.)

I braved Costco today on a bad day... it was the first day their new coupons were valid, AND it was a federal holiday where some workers and most schoolchildren had the day off. I went into it with no timeline, a totally relaxed and zen approach, with a commitment to be genuinely nice to anyone I interacted with.

And?

Success! Sure, I came home drained and was emotionally unable to make the *other* errand stops I intended to complete, but I had a real smile for every employee, I let everyone push their carts in front of me, I never took the last sample from the tray. Even in both the parking lot AND the gasoline line I smiled and held open the metaphorical door for others.

I don't like to let pithy proverbs win, but it's true today: it IS all in your attitude. And when going to Costco, be prepared for the worst, and when it arrives, greet it with a smile -- and plenty of time on hand.

LOLZ

Text message exchange that I participated in yesterday, with my texts in bold and italics. Punctuation has been transcribed with precision.

Hey!Hows it going?;)

Uh-oh. Sorry, I don't have your number in my phone so I don't know who this is.

Dude.Seriously.

This is Emily.

Nopeee!Try again.

No you idiot, I am Emily. Either you have the wrong number or I don't have you programmed in my phone.

Do you know Justin Haskins?

...

...

What school do you go to?

Don't know Justin, and no school. I am 30 years old and at work right now.

oh god!Sorry! My bad!

Oh, dear.

The time for stopping use of Facebook draws ever nearer, for when I am friends with a cousin whose status reads, "happy birthday [redacted]! you're finally 14!", I feel like I'm not really welcome at the party.

Fun (see two posts down)

There are reasons of all kinds that one chooses their spouse... and tonight, just now, I realize that I chose mine in part because he is the only person on the planet who could patiently sing along to my mandolin-butchering-rendition of "Heavy Metal Drummer" and congratulate me for learning so quickly.

Fun... here I come!

Impact

Our new house is just that - new. There is no need to replace, update or install sinks, floors, doors, fixtures, handles, paint or cabinets. However, to make the rule there must be one exception, and ours is that one of the toilet seats is nicked and scratched and missing paint, and also is a mismatch for the toilet itself. This weekend, we replaced it. And I realized that of all the mounds of garbage I've seen or read about in the world's landfills - the refrigerators, the toilet seats, the old drywall, the scuffed floorboards - I have never directly put part of a house in that mound. And that's a good thing for 29 years of living with rental toilets (with wooden seats), rental showers (with lilac tiling), rental screen doors (complete with rips) and rental paint (always white)... but it's also the beginning of a new search for ways to recycle all manner of trash. The toilet seat, I fear, it headed for the landfill, but John balanced our environmental pro-con list and installed this:




Our new 55 gallon rain barrel! I have to figure out how to paint it or cover it in decals, because as water-saving as it may be, it still needs to earn it's aesthetic keep around here.

For Fun's Sake

This week, a horrifying conclusion revealed itself to me: the only thing I do for pure fun is go out to eat and/or drink with friends. The movies I see, the books I read, the projects I undertake... they all have an element of striving to be a better, smarter, more informed, neater, cleaner, more patient, more educated, more compassionate or more emotionally mature person. Some of them might be fun, but they are not ONLY fun. The world of "fun only" belongs to eating and drinking. No wonder it's how I socialize, recreate, relax and/or energize!

Two things happened this week that make me think about fun... and how I might allow myself to try something else just for that feeling.

One, we got a mandolin. John strives to be multi-instrumental, and so far, is an accomplished piano player and a goofball guitar player. So he asked me if I'd prefer a banjo, a bass guitar or a mandolin... and the mandolin won. It's beautiful, and tiny, and not intimidating with its four (albeit double) strings - one for each finger on the fret. John bought a chord chart and I've hesitatingly picked it up. It takes confidence to make music; I don't have it. Yet. But for the first time, I think I could.

Two, at church this morning there was a smattering of costumes, and after the benediction, the organist started the postlude... in a black and red vampire cape... Bach's toccata and fugue in D minor. You know it, it's this one. It got a huge laugh, and he played the length piece to the end, finishing with a bow to the congregation and a flip of the cape with great vampiric flair. It was for no other reason than fun, and church illustrates a lot of things for me, but I never thought it would illustrate fun. That's a takeaway to set the tone for the week!

Small Pieces.

I read a book once written by a father, about his daughter who died from cystic fibrosis at age 9. She was born a year after one in which the census was taken, and died before the next one was taken, ten years later. He noted the pain it caused him that she was never counted in our great once-a-decade accounting of everyone living in America - minor or adult, legal or undocumented.

Amidst all the election headaches in my life (and maybe - likely! - yours, too, right now), I like to think the following observations express the tiniest, smallest, absolute-most-miniscule possible pieces of heart the government has… and as small as they are, I like 'em.

First, when filing to go from being a greencard holder to becoming a citizen (aka, naturalizing), you must list your marriage history and your parental history. You may list a child as "missing" or "dead". And while I'd never wish a missing or dead child on anyone, there is something about such a full accounting of a life that I like.

(And yes… I AM choosing to ignore the possibility this exists for security purposes. The polling data and talking heads have got me down this week [month], and so I’m focusing on the positive today, no matter what!)

Second and third... on much lighter notes... the same naturalization form contains (and other forms, I presume) choices for hair and eye color. Hair color choices include "bald" and eye color choices include "pink".

It warms my heart that the United States Immigration policy writers have kept an eye out for all the albino emigres in the world, heading to American shores!

Married Money

The journey to FEEL like my money is John's, and John's money is mine, is a long, slow one. My family of origin handed down some real gems when it comes to beliefs about money, the value of work inside and outside the home, gender and what is worth spending disposable income on.

That said, John is much farther along in the "it's all ours" belief than I am... but much farther along should make you laugh when he told me where his 401(k) is at. I was delighted that he has saved and matched such a wonderful start to retirement, and said, "Well, mine's not quite as much." (Given that I've had benefits for about 8 months and he has had them for over four years.)

He responded, "Oh baby, all that money is ours."

Me: "Aww, that's sweet."

Him: "Well mentally it is. But also legally!"

Aaaand, goodnight!

$100

What if someone walked up to you on the street tomorrow, and gave you a $100 bill? What would you say? Would you explain how you're going to spend it, would you put them in your prayers of gratitude that night? Here in Portland, a woman is giving away $100 every day for the month of October, as a way to honor the unexpected inheritance she received from her mother's retirement account, upon said mother's death. I am eager, each day, to read her blog post about it... and I hope you are, too. Check it out here. If you want to read it along with me, maybe we can talk further about it next time we hang out?