Is it just me, or has the blogging world seemed a little, I don't know, quieter lately? I don't know about the rest of the world, but I wonder if it's because of the typical after-holiday let down. Even without the alleged depression thing, I always feel like crap in January, after psyching myself up for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I almost always get sick this time of year, and I have no desire to do ANYTHING. I don't think I'm the only one, though, am I?
Or maybe it's just a girl thing, because John is the exact opposite of me. He has apparently decided that now that the holidays are over, he can start working on all of those house-cleaning and organizing projects he's been wanting to get done since we moved in August. Which essentially translates into ME doing all those house cleaning and organizing projects he wants done. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband, and he's a great guy. He was raised in the very rural South, in the heart of the bible belt, and while he is very enlightened for his breed, he just doesn't have an organizational bone in his body. You should see him pack. Seriously, it gives me nightmares. I guess I am kind of a strange person, in that I don't care how much of a mess my house is (most of the time), but all hidden areas must be organized to the point of obsession. Toys, laundry, blankets all over the floor, couch and any other available surface? Sure, no problem. Dishes out of place inside the cabinets? I can't sleep until it's fixed. And so, when he says things like, "Let's go clean the garage," I know I'm in for a long weekend. His idea of "clean the garage" is clear a walking space by taking everything and shoving it in the first available box and sticking it in the crawl space. My idea of clean the garage is to bring all of the Christmas stuff back in the house, sort it out by type and pack neatly into the appropriate box (he took it all down, not me, or it would have been done right the first time). Then go under the house and move all the stuff around down there until I have a space large enough to fit the two new boxes we added this year, and bring up some of the other stuff needed for other cleaning projects he wants done. Then pick up all the hats, gloves, boots, and other winter ear, sort by size, style, and child, and find a nice, neat storage solution, appropriately labeled, for each item. Then, sort all of the food on the pantry shelves by type. Then, break down and throw away all the boxes left over from the large Christmas presents. Then sort all of the stuff I had been planning to either sell of Craigslist or give away on Freecycle and set them aside in neat, sorted piles, take new pictures, and repost. Then, clean out and reorganize the freezers. Then, go through the paints and cleaning supplies and other miscellaneous fluids stored in the garage and check for expiration dates and empty cans, then resort by type and size and put back. All of this while my kids are in the house, throwing toys at each other across the living room, ripping any paper they find to shreds, and chasing the cats through the house. I swear, it's a disease. I can't help it though, if it's a space no one is going to look in but me, it HAS to be organized. All the clothes hanging in the closet are arranged by type and color. My sock drawer has dividers so I can arrange by type. I have separate containers for the pens and the pencils on my desk, because pens CANNOT be in the same cup as pencils, they might crossbreed and then I would have some mutant pen/pencil hybrid, and the world would come to an end. So my weekend, yeah, it sucked. Because I have this post-holiday blah thing, and I didn't want to clean the garage. So I did some of it. And then I couldn't sleep all night, because I could hear the pantry shelves calling to me, begging me to come put them back in order. And I could hear the Christmas angel, under the house, crying, because I just shoved her in a box mixed with Christmas lights and placemats. And this is why I found myself up at 3:30 this morning, sneaking out into the garage to sooth all my precious shelves with a plan of attack and a promise to finish it all tonight when I get home. As long as John stays far, far away from me.