Help! I'm lost!

Oh yes.... very definitely lost in my own backyard....

Which means it's time for another clutter busting week. Where does this stuff come from? Why do I seem to throw out more stuff than I actually have possessions?  I seriously need to have my clutter neutered. It keeps breeding and I really can't afford to keep feeding it my sanity... there is so little of that left.

So I have become an avid fan (read STALKER) of the lovely Katrina at The Organised Housewife . Katrina is my idol. I salute her for the following reasons:

• She makes it sound simple, which means I will attempt it, because I shudder at anything more complicated than "Where Is The Green Sheep" at the moment
• Her lists are great for printing and ticking with my favourite purple pen, which makes me happy, so I run around doing all the things on the list just so I can play ticksies
• She doesn't tell you off if you miss something, or put it off until tomorrow because you just can't find your "giveashit" gene today, she just keeps on cheerily offering you little ideas and routines and you can't help smiling while you dust 

• She makes me feel like I am achieving something every day. And that's a big thing in my life at the moment, when I feel like all I am achieving is finding new and interesting ways to have a nervous breakdown

 She's changing my life, one task at a time. My house it tidier, my mind is clearer, and there's more room on the sideboard for my G &T.

It also means that WonderMan has to smarten up his act, or all his possessions will be in the Friday box and he will be going to work without his wallet, keys or underpants for a week. 


WonderMan is the king of all procrastinators... he has turned procrastination into an artform, and my blood pressure chart into something resembling a side view of the Himalayas...

Pre-Katrina when he came home from work he would turn 1/2 an hour of wind down into an all nighter of getting in my way, ignoring my continuous screams for help to remove the toddler from under my feet while I cooked dinner, and always managing to not be there when I needed something done. And then when I was standing in the kitchen crying amongst the nuclear warzone that was supposed to be my home he would ask "What do you want me to help you with?" at which point I would howl like an injured animal and lock myself in the bedroom.


Since I have started following these routines (and with a little kick in the butt from his counsellor) he is actually trying. Maybe it's because I'm getting more achieved, and he likes our house looking normal for once. Maybe it's because at the end of the day when he comes home I can give him my list of tasks and ask him to complete two of the things I haven't ticked yet. Maybe it's because I have threatened to razor off his "wobbly bits" and serve them to his mother, who I believe is responsible for his housework ineptitude. Maybe he realises that I think he's sexy when he vacuums.....

Whatever the reason, My daily pilgramige to all things "Organised" is keeping my head on my shoulders, and my hand from the valium bottle.


All Hail Katrina