Excuse the expletive, but now we are tired and we are dealing with complicated things -- like figuring out our blessed health care -- and when we can't find a file, or a bill, or the stapler it is just aggravating. This is made more complicated because if things haven't found their place yet, it means we can't figure out what to do with it and it may be in the third box. We might remember what we packed the first time, the second is blurry, but the third box is impossible. Seems like there isn't that many boxes left, but enough to make this part of the journey infuriating. I know I have saved receipts that will maybe appear after the apocalypse, but I can't find them now.
This is made even more maddening because I am starting to do some of the planning and paperwork of the job. A little over a week to my first service, and I am planning and rallying ideas written on scraps of paper throughout the last few weeks. Now the little pieces of paper are all over and if I find them, I can't figure out what the chicken scratches I made two weeks ago mean.
I have been thinking a lot about order -- how nice it sounds. I have lived in chaos long enough. I want things where I can find them, I want the kids to behave for a few minutes, I want to not have to learn every bloody thing I am doing right now. I want to have something work the way I planned it, to do something the way I have always done it, to do something I am gifted at and do easily. A pox on all these messy, chaotic, dusty, piled up corners of cherished garbage?!*#^$!
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