Any particular area of your life falling apart right now? Or is everything under control?

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

Answers

I only wish everything were under control. We've been having a hell of a time lately with finances. My husband's work is slow, as is mine, and yet the bills keep coming. It can get really depressing. I hope once I get a new job, we'll be able to take control of our finances and not let them control us.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

Funny you should ask. One area of my life has JUST been pulled back from the edge of chaos: finances. I can never remember when to pay bills and whether I paid them or not.

I used to get paid on the 15th and 30th and it was simple: I paid rent with the 30th paycheck and everything else with the 15th paycheck. Now we get paid every two weeks and for some reason my little brain cannot wrap itself around this.

Luckily, my partner is good at this stuff and I showed him all my bills and he figured it out. Now I have little reminders in my Palm of which paycheck is for which group of bills. He managed to do this in a nice non-judgmental way, too.

He thinks the house is in chaos, but I'm not bothered by it. However, I promised to clean up my stuff for a half hour.

The yard is in chaos, but it's getting under control.

My body is in chaos - I am exercising but am having a lot of trouble not eating till I burst. I'd like to feel like I can control myself better than I actually do.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

I'm confused about the "sorting the junk mail" bit -- why not "sort" it right into the recycle bin when the mail is brought in?

Anita of Anita's BOD and Anita's LOL

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

I just quit my job, so I'm in the process of getting my shit together. This not working thing is GREAT. I was afraid I'd be bored, but I'm managing to keep myself fairly busy, but not TOO busy.

Of course, it's only been a few days. It may be a different story in a few weeks or months.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

Anita: some of our junk mail arrives with little checks that say "deposit this $25,000 check to claim your preapproved home equity loan!" Those need to be shredded or at least ripped up. Two of my credit card companies insist on sending me junk mail that has my credit card number on EVERY SINGLE PAGE. And hardly anything is 100% recyclable; almost everything comes with stickers (ooh, how I loathe the stickers) and plastic windows in the reply envelopes. It's a lost cause to expect the person who picks up the mail to deal with that immediately, so we're shooting for once a week.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

Wow, you're concientious. I just tear up all the junk mail and throw it in the bag of recycling when I bring it in.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

Well, Seattle (at least, our part of Seattle) has a cool new system where you can just pitch the junk mail straight into the recycling cart (plastic windows, stickers and all -- at least that's my impression). You can also mix it with all kinds of different recyclables -- I think glass is all that has to be sorted out separately. It's great. I pick up the mail, and before I go into the house, I stand in front of the recycle cart and toss all the crap into it. Problem solved!

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

My shit is so not together. I generally keep the kitchen pretty neat, but sometimes the burden of cleaning up after I cook is too much, and I let it sit until I get up in the morning and have a fresh outlook on everything. Years ago, probably as a result of me bitching and moaning, and slamming shit around in the kitchen, Charlie offered to start cleaning up after dinner, since I always do all the cooking (he's not allowed to attempt cooking anymore after the "turtle meatloaf" and "flaming tea bag" incidents. It sounded good in theory, but then I started to find dishes, pans, bowls and utensils in the wrong places, and I got really stressed out. My kitchen has an order to it, and if the order is disturbed I can almost feel myself develop a nervous facial tic. So, I begged him to stop the clean up because I couldn't handle the tension it was causing me. For a while I would sneak out of the bedroom after he had gone to sleep to put everything back where it belonged, so I wouldn't hurt his feelings, and also because I knew I was crazy. That only worked for so long though.

I loathe cleaning floors, but Charlie is great about vaccuuming. It was always his job as a child, so he just keeps on doing it, to the tune of 3 or 4 times a week. A lot more than it would get done if I was in charge of it, I'll tell you that. The sweeping and mopping happens about 50% less than it should, because that's my arena. I don't get worked up over a spot on the floor, or a little tuft of cat hair in the corner. Unless, of course, company is coming.

Laundry is my job, and I swear that it will be the thing that finally kills me. Every week, the same thing. Endless cycle. Wash, dry, hang, wear, gather, wash, dry, hang, wear, gather. Sunday is laundry day, and I usually put it off until about 6:00 p.m., which means I'm never really caught up and I have to do mini-loads all week so Charlie will have matching outfits to wear to work. He is color-blind, so outfitting is one of my duties, and the one I like the best, actually.

Dusting happens only when company is coming.

Mail goes on the kitchen island, the dining room table, the foyer table, the bedroom nightstand, my bag to take to work, my car, and once, the bathroom. It is supposed to be taken immediately to my desk upstairs, but that's impossible because the last thing I want to do after an hour in the car is trudge right upstairs with the mail. Anyway, my desk is too covered with catalogs and a year's worth of filing, and miscellaneous items that I can't bring myself to throw away to possible hold mail that must be attended to within the next month.

I pay the bills and balance the checkbook. This was not too bad of a task until we decided Charlie should have his own ATM card. Not that he is spendy. I mean, he is, but no more so than I. The thing is, it's just really hard to keep track of all the times he grabs a quick twenty (with an additional $1.00 to $2.50 service fee), or a tank full of gas. He tries to tell me, but only remembers to at the worst possible times, like when I am cooking dinner, or I'm driving, or we're lying in bed trying to go to sleep. I make mental notes and promptly forget them, and it catches up, big time. I just opened a line of credit for overdraft protection. I told the bank it was "just in case", but I know it will get used, and often.

I comment on how gross the fridge is, while I shove in another tupperware which blocks my view of the gross old thing that I was commenting on. I don't take it out and throw it away, I just shove it farther toward the back and wrinkle my nose at it. Once every 3 months or so, I do the major fridge clean out. I have had to throw away what used to be perfectly good food containers simply because I wasn't brave enough to tackle and even more frighteningly, identify what was inside.

Charlie takes care of the yard. Luckily, he loves it, and he's great at it. Our whole street has commented on the professional job he has done (it's just a natural knack for him, lucky bastard), and I know the men secretly hate him because he makes them all look bad. I have the job of "designing" our yard. I pick out the plants for certain areas, and point where I want them to go. Charlie dutifully creates the perfect bed for every plant, bulb and shrub we buy. I am in charge of picking out, purchasing and placing bird feeders, bird baths and critter food.

Nobody does the windows. Charlie seems to think it's my job, but I'm pretty sure he's wrong. As long as I can see SOMETHING through them, they're okay. Unless company is coming. Then I clean them, but I mutter under my breath the entire time.

The bathrooms. Hmmm. I keep the downstairs bath spotless, because anyone who comes by might want to use it at any given time. I don't want to have to worry about what they're thinking while using it, so I maintain it well. The master bath doesn't fare so well. My hairspray and brush are always on the counter. There are long brown hairs in the sink. There's always a towel half in the hamper, half on the floor. The shower could always use a scrubbing. The faucets do not shine at all. The closest thing the floor gets to a cleaning is the water that drips from our bodies when we get out of the shower. Unless, of course, company is coming. Then I make it look like we've never set foot inside. The guest bath is Charlie's to handle because he is kind enough to clean the litter box, which resides in the guest bath tub (unless we have actual guests, then the cats have to search the house to find where we have temporarily housed their toilet).

The hall closets are disaster areas and catch-alls for the strange stuff that we are too lazy to put in the attic. Unless, of course, (say it with me...) company is coming. Closets are my territory, because we don't want to run the risk that something get put in "the wrong place", which really only means, I insist on knowing where everything is at all times, so I have to be the one to put it away.

If you can believe it, our city doesn't offer any recycling options, as far as local trash pick-up or even a local recycling center goes. We have to drive to the next county over to drop off glass, plastic and paper, and if you mess up AT ALL in your sorting, they make you feel like you're 6 years old. Sadly to say, we aren't as good about recycling as we should be. Beth, I never thought about what could happen if those home equity loan checks get into the wrong hands. I always just toss them, intact, into the trash and forget about them. Not anymore, though. Thanks again for more good advice! I don't like chores, but they keep me grounded. Ya can't have fun all the time, or it wouldn't seem like fun anymore. Right?

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

Got my shit together? Hell no. I too, quit my job, am looking for another, but no one is hiring me because I suck ass. (bitter, party of one?) I have bills that can get taken care of, but my student loan is going to haunt me until the day I die, I hate it.

The boy is all about marriage next year, and I'd rather just get my career under control. I've been promising myself for years I'd go back to school and get my MBA. I get ambitious about once a year, and get all this stuff from all the colleges in the area, look at it, and think... Nah, maybe next year.

I suck.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

I live with one of those crazy people who loves to clean, who does it as a matter of course every day without bitterness. I'm in charge of figuring out and paying the bills, though, and those are late every month. (Oops. May 2. Rent due yesterday.)

Here in NYC, every envelope-plastic windows, stickers and all-is recyclable so I just stand over the recycling bin with a pair of scissors.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

my clinic runs like clockwork, my staff and some of my clients call me "Dr Fuss-Ass" my life, however, is going to hell in a handbasket

('got my shit together'?...i have 6 dogs! i don't even have my shit 'picked up' yet!)

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

For the last three years my life has totally rocked, but lately it seems to have hit a bad patch. The year started off well (new job), but recently the following has happened (if you read Squishy you may have seen this in the '2000 Sucks Ass' thread):

1. Tristan's in South Africa at the moment because his cool and lovely uncle died of a brain tumour last week. He's been there since last Wednesday, and probably won't be back until next Monday. Yesterday he told me the entire family is dealing with their grief by being horrible to each other and dredging up any disputes they've had over the last twenty years. Tristan's an only child with a somewhat idealistic view of family life, and he's finding it really hard.

2. Tristan still hasn't changed jobs or started his own company, and the longer this goes on the more difficult he's finding life. And when he's not happy it's difficult for me to stay happy.

3. My new job has not turned out to be as much fun as I'd hoped - in fact, I don't like it, and I'm not sure which option to take next. I really don't like my manager - on a personal level he's nice, but it's like working for an escaped mental patient at times, and we seem to have completely different views of what my job should entail. I've not hated my job for a long time, and I've loved working here since 1997, but in the last couple of weeks I can hardly drag myself out of bed, and it sucks.

4. My mother has been having dreadful chest pains, the doctor thinks it's because of her gall bladder, but she's been smoking for over 30 years and I'm scared it's going to be more serious. (This is, obviously the worst thing at the moment, although it's at no. 4 in this list). I think I may be being irrational here, but the way things are going at the moment I just wouldn't be surprised (aren't I the little ray of sunshine!)

5. I got an email from my best friend back in NZ yesterday - turns out she had an abortion earlier this year. I don't know anybody less emotionally capable of dealing with something like that. I'm really worried about her and I don't have her new phone number so I can't call her up. I feel so guilty that I haven't been able to support her, and in the long term I'm scared she'll really suffer from this - she's had various eating disorders and other problems in the past.

So I'm hoping this is just a temporary glitch. I've been at the bloody office for 11 hours straight today, doing a job I hate, miserable in the knowledge that there is no Tristan at home, waiting to cuddle me and tell me everything will be fine. And his uncle's funeral was today, so I can't ring him and moan. I want my Mum!

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

Well, since we just moved and are spread out between the temp housing and the place we just rented, everything is absolute chaos.

Half of the bills have been re-addressed to the new place, the other half are coming through on the forward that I put on our former address/the po box.

But Sabs hasn't turned in his change of address form yet, so his stuff isn't getting forwarded by the post office, we have to trust the landlady at our old place to do that.

As for chores, we just got into a "discussion" about that again today. Simply put, we had a nice groove going 2 apartments ago, when we first moved from DC to Alexandria.

When we moved across the street, we lost that groove, and it got worse when I tried to go back to school to get my MA in history.

Sabs is terrible about doing chores, any kind of chores. He just can't seem to remember that stuff needs to be done. He's very absent-minded, forgetful and generally unaware of his surroundings, so he just doesn't notice when there's stuff on the floor.

I'm a compulsive tidier -- I pick things up and put them in piles, be it mail, clothes, books or dishes. This habit drives Sabs crazy, because in my tidying, he often can't find anything. He also hates having dishes put into the sink, whereas I hate having them on the counter, because I then have no room to maneuver.

For two years now, the household has not been under control. One thing or another has dropped a bomb and everything is very precarious now. We're trying very hard to turn this move into a means of getting stuff under control.

But it remains to see whether we will be successful, or if the whole thing will just blow up in our faces.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

Dave and I made the same sort of chart this weekend, because keeping our house in order is a terror. We both work full time jobs and commute 45 minutes each way. We've got the dogs to take care of and the house is constantly a mess.

So we made a spreadsheet of all the thnigs that need to get done on a regular basis and we're going to each try and do 30 minutes worth of stuff each day. I don't know if it's going to work, but we have to try.

Right now the only thing we're keeping up with is the bills (me), the garbage and recyclables (Dave, most of the time), cooking (me) and kitchen cleaning (me). The rest of the house isn't getting vacuumed on a regular basis and it really needs to be because of the three dogs. And we've got to get a handle on the clutter that we drop when we walk in the door.

If only I could quit my job! I could keep up with everything if I didn't have this job.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

Getting one's shit together takes on less and less importance as life goes on, trust me. Now that I'm past forty, all that stress over dust on the furniture, cat/dog hair in the corners, things out of place..well, they just don't matter that much to me anymore.

All that matters most to me now is spending more time with my daughters and my dogs, and assorted people that I love. Fun is the primary goal when you're looking down the age telescope at the far side of your life. Love is the prime directive. Regret is for fools.

So what if you feel like you can't get your shit together today? Do it tomorrow when nothing better is on the agenda. If company is coming, you have to start asking yourself: are they coming to see me or to judge what kind of housekeeper I am? And if it's the latter, are they really people I want to call Friend? Interestingly enough, I found that all my friends could care less about the state of my house. They seem to think like me. I stopped apologizing for my chaotic house the day someone told me they loved coming here...because they said they felt so comfortable and welcomed and totally at ease. So I say, Go ahead - take off your shoes and put your feet up on my coffee table. Here, have a snack and a drink! Don't worry about those dinner dishes -- I'll do them in the morning. Or the day after. Let's just keep this great conversation going!

Really, it's just liberating to not be the anal-retentive about housework that I was way back then. I used to practically kill myself before company came. Now it just looks silly from my vantage point looking back.

And bill paying? Yes, you have to do it, but honestly. The earth does not explode, I've found out, if you are a day or two off your "schedule". The new garden bloom or the kid wanting to tell her story is way more important. Really.

The bottom line: life's too short to take it too seriously.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

Shit together? What's that?

Well, my job is totally undemanding by any standards, so I'm doing well there . . . mmm, that's it.

Other areas -- school, romance, finances -- are a mess.

Oh, I _do_ get along with all of my parents (mom, dad, two stepmoms, two stepdads; it's very complicated) and siblings (three stepbrothers, one half sister).

But I really thought I'd be doing better than this at my age.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

In a word--no.

I feel like I'm living in limbo. My husband is under tons of stress-- mostly self-imposed, but I contribute--to find a job so he can get out of grad school. I'm totally unmotivated at work in part because i have no idea how much longer I'll be here, plus I don't find what I'm doing very inspiring or worthwhile.

Housewise I guess we're pretty okay. We have a pretty high tolerance level for dirt. Company seems to be the biggest trigger for me to do major cleaning, but he's better about releatively regular upkeep (like vacuuming). Financially, we're in a situation where we can eat out regularly (5-6 nights a week) without beating ourselves up over it. BUT, whenever we do eat in, I have to hear about how our dinner only cost $2.50 each. My response is usually--If that matters to YOU, YOU can cook more often. This mostly stems from the fact that he normally works from home while I commute about 2 1/2 hours per day. I'm not normally sweetness and light when I get home.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

Beth:

Just wanted to let you know that in Alaska also you can recycle those envelopes with the plastic windows in them. I know what you mean about the credit card things...we are forever shredding those. On top of our mail, my father died last year and all his mail was forwarded to me...and it's still coming! You wouldn't believe how many companies want to give hima credit card. It boggles the mind!

Colleen

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

If I have money to pay the bills, I don't have time to write. If I have time to write, I don't have money to pay the bills.

I used to think that if I sold what I wrote, I'd have it made. All I wanted to make was a technical writer's income, but I wanted to make it writing enema viriti.

An unrealistic goal. Is that unrealistic of impractical?

I now think that if I made a technical writer's income writing it would be as much work as writing technical manuals, with more pressure, too.

I am used to writing and working, paying the reader to read my work. It's no insuperable burden, as Henry Miller said. Printing up and mailing out pamphlets, at my own expense. Or, now, hosting a Web site.

But sometimes the writing grabs me by the throat and won't let go. I get behind at work.

And sometimes I have a deadline I can't miss at work. I get behind on the writing.

I used to stalk and glare, throw black looks at my loved ones, and fill my writing with complaint.

Why do I have to break off the writing and go do a job a monkey could be trained to do when I am writing so well.

I wasn't writing well. I was writing, "Why do I have to break off the writing and go do a job a monkey could be trained to do when I am writing so well."

A third part of the equation, if you and your partner both work, and have kids, is splitting up the parenting and the household chores.

This part gets easier when the kids are grown.

I pay to have some things done. I can afford that when I work.

A family is not a burden. They love me, even if I am a screw-up, who keeps losing jobs for paying more attention to my writing than to the job I am being paid to do.

They put up with my grouchiness. Tease me out of it. I try not to be mean, or cross, but sometimes I blow.

Less often now than previously.

I feel guilt about that. And shame.

In addition to the anger, fear, self-pity, envy, and despair I feel about 30 years of rejection by people not fit to carry my jock.

Waiting for the Old Rollback to come again at work. The Spinning Fatalist to land on me.

I am...the grim...REAper.

If I ever got my shit together I wouldn't be able to lift it.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

Beth - your journal entry sounds exactly like my life! I don't think I'll ever have everything under control, especially if I ever have kids. My main goal right now is to try and not let it stress me out, and to get enough sleep at night so I can deal with it when it does.

A note about cleaning...my friend told me her grandmother's advice was to *straighten* and not clean before guests come over because you'll just have to clean after they leave. I have tried to embrace this, but sometimes our house is just to icky for anyone else to see.

A note about the crapola in the mail...I tear everything in half. One goes in the recycle bin, the other in the trash (usually the side with the little plastic window). Case closed.

-- Anonymous, May 02, 2000

Sadly, I can't find enough of my shit to actually get it together.

However. I am taking two days off around the weekend, and I am going to get my new apartment organized if it kills me. Most of my books are still in boxes, I need to switch winter clothes for summer clothes, and the whole place could do with a good dusting.

I am doing this because Mom and Dad are coming to visit, and they would have an absolute shit fit if they saw it the way it is now.

Yes, it is my apartment. Yes, I am an adult. But suffering their disapproval, silent or otherwise, for even a day is more than I can take.

Now I'll be able to figure out what I don't have and what I can't afford to get to complete my design "concept." (ha)

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2000

Just yesterday, before 10 p.m., I would have said, "together enough." Then I opened the envelope from Revenue Canada, imagining it would be the usual "please complete the tax forms you've been putting off for the last three years."

Instead, it was a longer, larger letter, saying "we have completed a tax form for you, and you owe us $700 for 1997."

I do not have $700. I certainly can't come up with it within twenty days. I'm pretty sure I don't actually owe them $700, but someone, who shall remain nameless, has picked up all my tax stuff from the To Be Done pile in the basement and moved it. I move something, it usually A) goes somewhere that makes a certain amount of sense and B) I can sit and do a little regression into the past and remember where that is. This someone, on the other hand, not only puts things in stupid places, but more often than not doesn't even remember touching them until confronted with the hard evidence.

My shit is not together. I am screwed. Please, let's not even speak of my Visa bill. You know, it's times like these that I think, "when I lived alone the apartment was tidy, I never went into overdraft, and I paid the Visa in full every month..."

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2000

I'm not quite ready to say that it all doesn't matter, even though I'm past 40. I think you have to choose your battles, though. I no longer think I have time to get everything done, so I try to figure out what's important to me. I have never done things like keep the house clean because it's expected of me.

Some things do bother me when I don't have them together, like finances. If I can work out some system, then that's one less thing I feel is hanging over my head.

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2000

Work is under control (other than my needing to find a replacement job, which I haven't yet found). School is under control. Everything else is wildly out of control and getting worse. My roommates don't want to live with me any more, but I haven't been able to bring myself to beg strangers who don't care about me to live with them. My best friend dumped me and hates my guts. I can't drive and my teacher (the former best friend) is gone. I can't find a non-expensive shrink whose office I can reach and continue seeing regularly.

In short: emotional wreck, shit flying all over the room.

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2000