Different Strokes (of the feather duster....)

So I found this blog today, called 'The Organized Housewife'.
Can you see my face?

Reading it was like a train crash, I just couldn't look away. I was at once fascinated and repulsed. Its like a freak show. And I say that, not because I think the writer is a freak, but because it just takes a concept I already find overwhelming and puts a whole new high-speed, foreign language spin on it. I felt like I was in the trading room on Wall St, and all the traders were actually housewives screaming and signalling about cupboard organization and pantry labeling and decluttering detail.... Did I miss something? A class? A lecture? An information pamphlet? 

Seriously, I readily admit, these are skills and talents, but I just cant. Or don't. Or wont? Its not like it could be genetic, my mum was the tidiest, most organized woman you ever met. I actually - all kidding aside - long to be organized. Tidy. House Proud. Prepared. I think this Organized Housewife creature is a genius. My only jibe, if I had to have one (and I do) would be that she keeps cake packet mix's "for emergencies".... I'm sorry, but in my world a cake emergency is not an emergency. But that's why I'm not an Organized Housewife I guess...

Maybe it just takes the pressure off , you know, no one turn up to my place and expects a freshly baked cake. They will get conversation, hugs, tissues, advice, friendship, laughs and plenty of tea, but hardly ever cake, packet mix, or otherwise. Being out of control all the time is being consistent - I'm maintaining a constantly low standard of chaos, or should that be high standard of chaos?

My kids were telling my husband the other day that on Friday's we always seem to get to school on time and have a relaxed kind of vibe in the mornings, to which husband replied "that's cause by Friday, Mummy has the hang of the week".... So I guess my family don't know any different, they just know me. And my heart full of chaos. Poor buggers. They will never know a Mum who can match up socks, file the rubbish or frame every drawing the kids scribble for the family room gallery.

Guilty admission: I tidied up my plastics cupboard this afternoon. Then I turned my attention to the pantry and after surveying the eight half-packets of pasta, I suddenly had a thought: I'm bored but I'm not that bored....