I love going out of town. First California for a week, then Sitka for a couple of days (I will post the pictures on my blog soon!).
But going away means coming back. Not that I don't love coming home to my darling husband, my wonderful children, my sweet doggies, and my comfortable bed, I love it! But what I came home to was disorder, and clutter, and laundry, and mess.
If I'm not here to try to keep a handle on it, it just spirals out of control. I got home late Thursday evening, and on Friday, I did a lot of picking up and thought I had it licked. But this morning, after working at the gallery all day Saturday and being gone at church and then another gallery stint and an evening concert yesterday, I woke up to this:
|After some random cooking project (not mine)|
|Laundry basket next to an abandoned art project (again, not mine)|
|The dining room table. Except for the grocery list, none of these items is mine.|
|A belt, a Seahawks hat and a pottery cup with a spoon in it - not mine|
|A green sweater on top of shoes: you guessed it - not mine|
|The computer and cell phone: mine. The handset to the land line: mine. The other stuff: not mine|
|My laundry basket and boxes to be recycled|
|Clutter on the floor of the entry way closet: Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here!|
|Too many shoes|
|Newspapers that need to be recycled and more shoes|
A busy household of four adults, three of whom are working full time, creates a lot of clutter. A busy household of four adults (three of whom think they have a maid/laundress/cook named Paula) creates a worse problem.
Should I go on strike?
Chore charts, family meetings, lists, etc. don't seem to do the trick.
It isn't necessarily laziness on their part, it is just blindness. They don't see it and I do.
Abby, I love my family, but this is getting out of hand. What should I do?
Discouraged in Douglas
I am not posting this on Facebook, nor am I sending this out via email - the SHAME is too great. I will merely put it out on the internet for thousands of random strangers to see.