Reasons I shouldn’t do housework

Reasons that I should not do housework today:

1) I know where everything is.
2) I may not like dust, but I’m comfortable with it not changing. It seems happy. Why disturb?
3) the vacuum is too loud.
4) the broom is too quiet.
5) I am sensitive to cleaning chemicals.
6) elbow grease is, well, a pretty yucky mental image for me.
7) once I start cleaning, I notice how much other stuff needs done.
8) I get distracted by the other stuff.
9) I get so distracted, I get overwhelmed.
10) I must stop and formulate a plan. Refocus.
11) plans are fun. Except cleaning plans. They’re not fun.
12) laundry makes me sneeze.
13) because I made this list.

Okay okay. I did my housework today anyways. I’m just pretending. Truthfully, I function best in a clean organized environment. I really drag my heels to get there, though. But it’s done. It’s done. My old farmhouse is pristine. If only it would stay like this…


If she knew what she wants…

“But she wants everything
(He can pretend to give her everything)
Or there’s nothing she wants
(She don’t want to sort it out)
He’s crazy for this girl
(But she don’t know what she’s looking for)
If she knew what she wants
He’d be giving it to her
Giving it to her”

I love numbers. I love order. I love planning and figuring. I thrive when I’m in control. I’m happiest when everyone does what I say. That shouldn’t be too much to ask, right? 😉 But anyways. Numbers. Figures. Plans. Oh and messes. Number messes. Challenges. I love those.

My husband knows all of this. Anyone who knows me, knows this. And I know this.

“I’d say her values are corrupted
But she’s open to change
Then one day she’s satisfied
And the next I’ll find her crying
And it’s nothing she can explain”

So I’ve decided to try something for the next couple months. I’m putting our grocery money on a budget. Not just any budget; but the mother of all budgets. Broken down into micro managed little virtual envelopes. Every single item I purchase. I grouped some – frozen veggies, or fresh produce – since those will depend on what’s available each week and what I’m planning to make. This also will require me to take weekly grocery trips – but that’s kinda a good thing I suppose. I love to cook, and I make most of our meals – so that is a lot of items. A few months ago, I would have not done this. No one “else” breaks a grocery budget into so many little parts. I would’ve talked myself out of it and then not done it. Because that’s just weird, I’d have scolded myself.

So it wouldn’t have gotten done, and I’d have been left with an uncomfortable unfinished feeling all day. I hate that feeling.

But I’m learning that so much of what I do isn’t as terrible as I had thought. Or, more rightly, so much of what I WANT to do. I guess I’m learning to be more gentle with myself. It’s nice. Regardless, I realized what I wanted to do, and instead of my normal self-criticism and self-denial, I just told myself OKAY. Sounds good. And I threw myself into it. I loved it. Love love loved. I planned and figured and calculated and wrote.

It chilled me out. Cheered me up. Gave me a bit of control – and I clearly function much better with that. I’d always thought that feeding my control freak only made it worse. What if I was always wrong? I feel like I’m constantly re-learning about myself. It’s been years and years since I saw my idiosyncrasies as gifts, as something special or positive.

One more thing. I was about to head into town the other day for a much-needed much-delayed shopping trip, but things came up and I didn’t go. I went today. What’s more? Is that I also make a trip to another town with my family, and enjoyed some time at a park. Got a bit too dizzy from the playground spinning roundabout. But still. It was nice. I really think I enjoyed myself so much because earlier I “fed” my control freak. What if I’ve been doing the wrong thing all along, and judging myself too quickly and harshly?

“Some have a style
That they work hard to refine
So they walk a crooked line
But she won’t understand
Why anyone would have to try
To walk a line when they could fly…”

~The Bangles, If She Knew What She Wants (86)

Two hours

Two hours. That’s how long it took me to remember to see things from someone else’s viewpoint. And not just any someone: my sweet husband. The one I should be thinking of, before I react. Before I speak. And definitely before TWO HOURS pass by.

So here is what happened.

We were to attend a big party this weekend. Dinner, etc. Hours and hours away. An event that I honestly was dreading. But we were going anyways. Background: my husband owns a business and does business-y things, and I try really hard to support him. He provides for us, and I can put on a pretty face and do whatever needs doing and smile and whatnot. This has included things such as hosting company parties, attending events all over with him, things like that. I always am exhausted afterwards, and he tells me that I’m useless for days afterwards. But by god I can do it! I can dress up and throw on pearls and tie on aprons and get to work. This one would be a large gathering, at places I’ve never been.

I just really dread things like this. Which is funny, because often times, I actually really enjoy myself. Particularly when I host events – I love accolades and compliments and control of the evening. I can wear the wings of a social butterfly quite naturally, I think. I’ve always been this way, for as long as I can remember. The high and then the hibernate. I enjoy it though…even though I pay a price. This was one of the “things” I used to “prove” that I wasn’t autistic a few months ago. Social butterfly! Makes eye contact! And everyone is tired after events…

But anyways. Back to this weekend. And two hours.

My mother in law was to watch our children for the weekend, so that we could travel and party.

She called this morning to let us know that she was ill with the flu and wouldn’t be able to do this.

Husband: She has the flu. We won’t be going this weekend.

Me: Okay.

I might have even said, yippee! And clapped.
I cannot hide my true feelings, like, ever.

I was relieved. Sorry she was sick, but TOTALLY relieved when my husband told me that we would be unable to attend. He was handling the notifications. I was ecstatic – there are so many things I want to do at home this weekend! No tight shoes, no pearls, no pretty face! Nope nope nope (I don’t complain about dresses anymore, since I’ve started to make my own retro-inspired dresses, and I adore them).

Two hours.

It took me two hours to realize that my husband would be very let down about this. He was really looking forward to the trip, the food, the fun, and some of the things him and I were going to do and see while there. I wish I would have thought about it sooner. I really really do. I hate how, regardless of what it is I’m feeling, I just expect others around me to share those feelings. If I’m happy, why aren’t you? If I’m sad, why aren’t you? Ugh.

Two hours.

This is better than it used to be, though. My husband keeps telling me I’ve improved over the years. It’s odd, since in my own view, I think I’ve gotten terribly worse. He says it is my awareness now, that makes me more cognizant of my own actions – and where I fit in my world.

So this is why, two hours later, I suddenly said I was sorry. And I am.

(But I’m still totally looking forward to staying home)