by Sebastiano Pitruzzello / flickr

Every day, in the few moments (or hour) between when I wake up and when I get out of bed, I am full of plans for the day – a to-do list, goals and aspirations even. By the time my feet touch the floor, however, distracting thoughts rush into my head and all order is made chaos.

As an example:

I decided to finally clean my house this weekend. I make this decision every weekend. But this past weekend, it was REALLY GOING TO HAPPEN.

I started by sweeping my closet. The broom was close at hand, having been propped against a wall about a month ago as a hint. I began to sweep. I realized that I would need to move my shoe rack to get to the floor underneath it, so I did. In moving the shoe rack, I revealed a migratory herd of woolly mammoths disguised as dust clods.

Terrifying. Disgusting. Mesmerizing.

I decided I couldn’t let this occur ever again and immediately lay all blame at the feet of an ill-fitting pair of shoes hanging on the rack, which clearly symbolized the tipping point of clutter and were preventing me from having ever previously moved the shoe rack while cleaning. I concluded that they must immediately be put in a pile to go to Out of the Closet.

That led me to wonder what else needed to go to Out of the Closet.

There was a spoon in the kitchen that I didn’t much like. And a few hair bands in colors I never wear.

In removing the spoon from the drawer in the kitchen, I felt compelled to straighten all the silverware so that the fork prongs might not jam into the cabinet every time I tried to shut the drawer.

Much time was then spent debating with myself whether I needed three purple hair bands or just one. I compromised by keeping two, in different shades.

And then it was nearing sunset.

by Laurenz / flickr

I can’t possibly clean after the sun goes down. How will I see what I’m doing? Particularly when there’s no one around to remind me of electricity…

This is my spider problem, you see. Every thought sends my brain shooting in 17 new directions. Every path of action ends up developing a barrage of detours that keep me from any final destination.

by DOS82 / flickr

This seems to work for Google. But, clearly, it doesn’t parlay into the same results for me.

I end up wondering why I’ve been cleaning for five hours and have only successfully swept my closet. And why, once again, the day is done and I haven’t written a damn blog post.

I would be post-less today as well, except that it’s 105 degrees at 6 am. At the END OF SEPTEMBER, PEOPLE!

Normally I’d be blissfully dreaming and preparing to ignore my alarm for a sufficient amount of time to make me late for work. Instead, I’m awake and hot. So I’m finally letting you inside my head again.

Aren’t you better for it?

I came home from work today and decided to do some stretches on the floor. Instead, I fell asleep. In the middle of the floor. Still in my work clothes. Mid-stretch, even. Oops.

I could have comfortably stayed there all night if the fear of awakening with splinters instead of sheet creases marring my cheeks hadn’t propelled me to get up.

How do you keep up your energy and enthusiasm when there’s just not enough of you to go around?

8-02-10

First of all, HOLY CRAP IT’S AUGUST! My life has been a delightful chaos this summer – bits and pieces from every direction trying to fit into an overall picture. Today, I take is as it is and see the beauty in the asymmetry of it all.

How are you facing today?

by hurleygurley/flickr

I’ve been acutely aware each day, for the past few, that I haven’t written anything in this space. Since the inception of Pleasure Notes, I’ve only succeeded in creating daily ramblings during one month, despite my continued desire to write every day. I don’t beat myself up over the gap between desire and reality in this regard, or at least not usually. But for some reason, it’s currently driving me crazy. Perhaps it’s because I’ve committed to 21 5 800 and I believe that the community created by challenges is best served when the participation is public. It could also be that I love this space so much, and the creative outlet it provides is such a highlight in my life at the moment, that I’m uber-aware of my own absence. When I do show up here, however, I like to at least strive for coherency. And there’s the rub.

by Sabrina Campagna/flickr

At the moment, my thoughts are so jumbled that I’m more likely to land on the moon by day’s end than find any degree of coherency in my mind. Poor brain.

***

As I mentioned, I now resemble Uncle Jeb’s third cousin once removed because of some dental hi-jinx. It seems that was not horror enough. Over the weekend, I momentarily forgot that bed posts are solid and decide to slam my toe into one, leaving me crippled for a day and contemplating x-rays and crutches. Yesterday, my thumb suddenly decided to lay siege to the poorly defended carpal tunnel. And in a mysterious turn of events that has nothing to do with the increased availability of mini soy ice cream sandwiches at my local Trader Joe’s, I have added a new tire to my Michelin-envying waist.

by NuageDeNuit/flickr

My body has betrayed me and now I will never be cast in the remake of Catwoman!

***

I fear that I am THIS CLOSE to becoming a shut-in, and I blame it all on my furry feline friend, Bella. I grew up with dogs. I also grew up ridiculing people who owned cats. Now, I have one. What’s worse?

Eating cat hair with every meal, and finding it woven through every piece of fabric that has ever entered my home, no longer fazes me.

by exper/flickr

Also, the torrid, entangled affair that cat hair and dust bunnies seem to be carrying on in every nook and cranny of my truly humble abode is downright unseemly, and it is for this reason alone that I’m leaving them untouched.

One benefit of maintaining this level of filth love on all surfaces is that, like fog, it reflects light in interesting and unusual ways. I can pretend I have a floor covered in disco balls.

***

I should be pregnant. I already have the silhouette. I’m hungry all the time but NOTHING IS SATISFYING, not even chocolate. My boobs have enough storage space to hold milk for quintuplets, at least, and are in dire need of something to restore them to gravity-defying plumpness.

by Pikaluk/flickr

Of course, there is the prerequisite of sex, and I’d have more luck finding a cow to tip on the streets of Los Angeles than engaging in that 3-letter word at the moment.

***

I would have made a great heiress.

***

I will never be an Olympic gymnast. Damn you, Nadia, for putting the idea in my head!

***

Why do I love office supplies and kitchen utensils so much when my fondness for offices and kitchens is so tepid?

***

Will I ever have a coherent thought again?

by vaXzine/flickr

Welcome to my world. How are things looking in yours?

today's view of my desk

Take a wild guess at the state of my brain…

today's view of my kitchen sink

Terrifying, isn’t it?

Tune in tomorrow to see whether my attempt at decluttering both brain and home within the next 24 hours is a success or not. Wish me luck!