Apr 102013
 

Apparently, the clean-and-organized-get-it-done-right-now gene present in most of my family members was not passed on to me either by birth or through osmosis. You can tell by the two feet of dust on most surfaces in my house, the numerous stacks of reading material, and that jacket still hanging on the back of the chair since January.

One of the cleanest, most organized and uncluttered amongst my family members is my dear 94 year old grandmother.  She lives on her own in a cute townhome that I daresay has never been cluttered nor suffered dust more than a day since it was built and she moved in.

Letting something go is not her nature, and I am guessing that in 94 years, she has rarely suffered procrastination. I’m not sure she knows what that is.

And then there’s me.

Perhaps I should make a list of what I would rather be doing instead of cleaning:

This is possibly a cleaning tool.

This is possibly a cleaning tool.

  1. Grappling with a hangnail
  2. Doing my taxes
  3. Watching a documentary on how toilets were invented
  4. Pulling weeds
  5. Looking for trouble
  6. Looking for my husband’s keys the 120th day in a row
  7. Listening to the neighbor kid’s trumpet lessons for hours
  8. Bathing my uncooperative dogs
  9. Falling down
  10. Going to the dentist (okay…no)

I have discovered, however, that when I am in the throes of writer’s procrastination, cleaning and organizing suddenly becomes of paramount importance. If the throes are bad enough, my whole craft room/office gets a much-needed once over. Every now and then, other parts of the house benefit too.

I just don’t think I can justify that to my grandma. It may be a good thing that she lives a distance from me and cannot simply just pop over to my house.  If that were the case, well…she would discover that this apple fell far, far from the tree. This apple was scooped up mid-flight by a tornado and whisked to a place far, far away, where it gets really dusty on a regular basis and there’s nobody qualified to take care of it.

Hey, look. My desk is more organized than it’s been in awhile.  Apparently it got cleaned, Melody style.

I’m lucky I got this much written.

Copyright © 2010 Melody Jones

Feb 162013
 
Remember when they made pink toilet paper?

Remember when they made pink toilet paper?

I think by now everybody is aware I am pursuing a full time freelance writing career. This dream, that I have mentioned – ahem – 102.5 times (or so), allowed me to give notice to my former employer recently. This changes my daily habits.

In my new life, I no longer have a total one hour commute plus any lunchtime driving brought on by a sudden need to visit Michael’s or go out to lunch.  This has cut down significantly on gas consumption, reducing my daily costs. Happy dance.

I notice I also no longer have free continuous access to company toilet paper.

Let’s just be clear. I am female. Females visit restrooms more often than males. It’s probably proven in a study somewhere. It’s also proven at numerous large events every weekend in cities and town across the United States when the line at the ladies room is consistently 9 times longer than the line at the men’s room (if there is a line at the men’s room). I have seen desperate women crash the men’s room, scaring some nearby men while thrilling certain others – but I digress.

So now I AM the company. Apparently, I am also in charge of company toilet paper. I have to stock it and I have to buy it. And….I am still female (see paragraph above). Also, I am a coffee addict. I may have forgotten to mention that part.

Female + coffee addiction = increased number of bathroom breaks per hour which = substantial increase in toilet paper consumption which also = substantial increase in the purchase of toilet paper.

What I saved in not commuting an hour day is now made up in the purchase of toilet paper.

Nobody mentioned that in all my “what it takes to be a freelance writer and work from home” research.

Originally posted in June 2010, but worth a repost.

Copyright © 2010 Melody Jones