Thursday, February 18, 2010
The Pick Up Artist
You know those carts in stores that hold all the items people decided not to buy at the last minute? Right. The ones that sit there getting fuller and fuller as the day wears on and so much so that you start to feel sorry for the poor employee who has to unload all that crap just because customers (like me) couldn't make up their mind quickly enough? You do?
I wish we had one here. And the poor employee stuck with the re shelving task too while I'm at it.
This clean as you go business is for the birds. Some days I feel like I do nothing but pick up and return. Pick up and return.
If I wasn't so type A I'd be okay with egg beaters on my bed or Mardi Gras beads in the fireplace but I'm too Nicholas Cage in Matchstick Men for that. Becoming a mom has done this to me. Just ask my own mom (or my old roommates), clutter and dissarayness never bothered me in the slightest when I was younger, pre-Bjorn. Now? I'm a honking mess of "Oh my Gawd, pick up that Lego that you haven't played with in 10 seconds before it makes my mental state dive into a black abyss of chaos and negative Feng Shui.
How did this happen?
I'm blaming it on a cold and windy night in October a few years back. Out came a baby and in went more neurosis than I can shake a Swiffer at.