I have been trying since Christmas, to get my bead room together. I have emptied baggie after baggie of beads into containers. I have taken beads from boxes and bins and put them into other kinds of compartments and boxes. Shelves have been put up and mailing materials organized.
But I am stuck. This is a project that Molly could have done in a day. Actually, she could have organized the beads, the room, and painted it some wonderful color besides. And the color would have a name. Not me!
Okay I have long recognized that I have some *cough cough* quirks. People at work know I hate when someone sits at my desk and moves things around. My daughter knows if she loads the dishwasher I will move all the dishes around until they fit what I think is a better configuration. The bills in my wallet? Yeah, they all face the same direction, just like the clothing on hangers in my closet. But everybody does that. I think. The Christmas tree? Let’s not even talk about that.
Funny though, I am not that way about everything. Is my house a masterpiece of order and cleanliness? Uh, no. I wish. Does everything in my house have a place? And do I know where those places are? Hell no! It’s my private joke with myself when I am looking for something around the house that I am sure “I put it somewhere safe where I know I will remember it.” If I don’t laugh about it I will cry because I can’t find anything!
Which brings me back to my bead room. I want to organize it so well, I want everything to be within reach and I want it to make sense so desperately – that I am immobilized. I know that if I put everything in a bin or box or drawer, there is so much of it, it will never be right. I will be reorganizing forever and knowing I can’t do that the first time – freezes me in my tracks.
I know, look at it in small bits so I am not overwhelmed by the whole. Just do it, get it all cleaned up and looking wonderful and if I have to move things around every time I use something in there, so what? Just do it!!! Uh – yeah.
In some ways it makes it harder that I know exactly what is stopping me. Somehow if I could be oblivious to the idea that I will be extremely uncomfortable if I do not get it all in place to my liking, I could move forward and put everything – well – somewhere. But I think somewhere in my mind I think I will come to the end of the space and still have stuff left over with no place to put it.
Crisis for most people? No. For me?
Can you say neurotic? Sigh-h-h.
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