One Day at a Time — 2/8/2023

Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. 

—Psalm 63:3

Good morning, all!  Yesterday was a less than stellar day and I have no idea why.  I seem to be wallowing in depression more these days — I think it is my age — but considering the alternative to that issue I will continue to deal with perking myself up.

In the last couple of months there has been an unusually high number of passings amongst my group of friends and acquaintenances.  It is disturbing.  So, I am trying to adhere to the title of my blog — one day at a time — not looking back, not looking forward and not going any further ahead than lunch.

As my joints have decided to take on a personality of their own I have decided to battle them on their level and take to walking.  The weather has been, well, not good for walking outside. I have a Tony Little Gazelle upstairs but it is, to say the least, rather boring and it really doesn’t make my knees feel good so I have decided to walk inside.  From my kitchen to my breakfast nook which is really a nice sized space, not so “nook”.  So I started — it is about 25 steps along the path I am taking so four passes give me 100 steps.  So I started.  It wasn’t long before Trixie, my shadow (should have named her shadow) was walking along side me.  Up and down the kitchen we went.  Back and forth.  She finally quit in the middle of the kitchen and waited for me to catch up with her.  Then she got under my feet and got stepped on.  I asked her to please not trip me.  So, she took a running leap and almost knocked me off my feet — she is short but solid and she packs a wallop.  She is now fast asleep on the hearth and I need to walk my other 150 steps!  My Fitbit wants me to walk 250 an hour.  

I have decided to develop my own housekeeping style.  It is going to be called Bette’s Solution, named after my mother, Bette.  When my kids were little and my house would become unmanageable here would come Bette — the original Fly Lady.  She didn’t come armed with a plan or printed pages or books or anything like that.  She came with a garbage bag and commandeered my broom.  In the end of the session she would grab the vacuum just to make sure that nothing was left behind.  

When my kids were big enough she would get them in the den, show them her tools and suggest that anything they wanted they best pick up — she was giving them the time spend on a cup of coffee and then she was going to work.  They didn’t believe her — the first time.  They learned!  I felt like Anne Sullivan with Helen Keller at the pump — she knows!  They knew!  If MeeMaw had a garbage bag in her hand nothing was going to stop her.

And so it went.  She would sweep everything into a big pile, from the whole house, front to back, and there it was.  Easy peasy. And into the garbage bag it went.  Oh the wailing and gnashing of teeth.  The shouts of abuse.  The threats to call CPS (yes, my kids threatened to call CPS).  

Do you know how many times this Bette’s Solution had to happen?  Several.  But, it got better as each time she would show up with a garbage bag those kids moved in Olympic speed.  Pretty soon their mess was contained to their rooms and nobody cared — the family room finally looked like a family of human being lived there and not a bunch of lazy sloths with too much stuff in their life.  It was a beautiful thing.

Did you know that a Kenmore vacuum cleaner, from Sears, circa 1972, could pick up legos and Barbie shoes?  I wish I had visual evidence of it but you will just have to take my word for it.

So, fast forward to today.

We are old now and don’t have little children — even three out of the four grands have outgrown most toys — so those sorts of messes no longer happen.  Now we have old people messes and nobody to blame but ourselves.  We have gone soft, lazy, and we just don’t care.  We are trying to do all the interesting stuff while we can because we know one day it isn’t going to matter. But right now, it does matter, to me.  I dream of the days that my furniture was dusted and polished on the weekly, my sheets got changed every Monday, never fail, the dishes were washed as soon as they hit the sink — ah, yes the good old days without aches and pains and limiting things.  But something has to be done because clutter isn’t good for my mental health and my soul is letting me know it!  I will tell you though, it is tough being a neat freak with physical limitation married to a closet hoarder who thinks he has the the run of the house now.  Haha!  So phunny!

So, today as I was taking my walk with the dog through the kitchen, I was thinking — what would Bette do?  And it hit me.   I know what Bette would do — she was my mother — I knew her as well as I knew myself —- she would grab a garbage bag, the broom and the vacuum cleaner.  I know I won’t get any help because Hubs doesn’t see the mess, all he sees is HIS IMPORTANT STUFF and Trixie can’t pick up her messes ( leaves dragged in and gutted stuffy toys) because she doesn’t have opposing thumbs and honestly she doesnt care so I am just going to have to take over for her and fight this battle on my own.

So, wish me luck — I am going to do my second 150 steps walking around the house with a garbage bag and pick up whatever offends me.  Unlike Marie Kondo (who now admits to having a messy house) I am not going to hold it and see if it sparks joy — if it is in my way and has no sentimental value it is going in the garbage bag! I am not going to be picky.  And hopefully when my 150 steps is done my garbage bag will be filled, my soul will be a peace and I will have a feeling of accomplishment.  

I will let you know.