Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Wannabe productivity.

My kitchen has reached overwhelming proportions.

The table is more than half full with Stuff (mostly papers, but also things).

Every piece of silverware is in the sink, and for two days we've been washing them as we need them (wash 6 forks for dinner, wash a knife and two spoons for breakfast, etc.). The trash hasn't been emptied so there's a shopping-turned-trash bag set up on the counter, on the toaster. There are four coffee tubs on the back of the stove, two with new coffee and two with used grounds. (I would throw the used away, personally, but it seems to be my in-laws mission to fertilize our pine trees.) There is a pile of plastic shopping bags on the floor so I can't get to the hutch with my cookbooks (hence the cookbooks piled on the table), and a shirt plus some other things stacked on the breadmaker in the corner next to the hutch. On it goes...

I have routines. I <3 FlyLady to death, but I'm bad at keeping my paper of routines open in front of me constantly -- mostly because I don't have enough flat surface to set out the notebook. I have a timer, but it's usually being used to time certain urchins' Wii and computer times. I could borrow my mom's...but it's not mine and that (wrongly) annoys me.

I am lazy. Active, but lazy, because the things I'm doing, by the end of the day, don't seem to have added up to much.

This morning, the kids and I took recycling to the dump, bought pull-ups and forks at Walmart, put money in my Pampered Chef account so I can start up my website again (yay!), and then went to the park for probably about half an hour (before I decided it was too cold to stay and Morgan got a nosebleed while warming up in the car). Those were productive things.

Then I come home to my weirdo sloppy kitchen, the one I want to start simple-ly transforming into a real farmhouse kitchen, and my insides go "urgablechsighdepressing" and all I want to do is play Mario.

Can you see me? I'm pulling on my cowgirl boots (that I own in some wonderful parallel universe) so that I have bootstraps to tug on. I'm swallowing my perfectionist pride and am heading over to borrow my mommy's timer.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Please let me know you stopped by!