Far be it from me to question or criticize God's choices in which natural talents and gifts to give me, but there's one thing I really wish I was good at, but I'm just not.
I would love to be organized. Really efficiently, neatly, a-place-for-everything-and-everything-in-its-place kind of organized.
I dream of closets perfectly put-together, with things hanging neatly and containers stacked just so, and me getting a feeling of calm and satisfaction when I open the door to gaze admirably at the pleasant order of things.
Playrooms that look like something out of Pottery Barn for Kids...
...wouldn't it be lovely?
It just doesn't come naturally to me. In fact, it doesn't seem to come at all! I try, oh, how I try! It's not for lack of "want-to." Oh, I got the "want-to" in spades! What I don't got is the "know-how-to!" I have made so many attempts to tackle this messy beast in my life the number would make your head spin. Yet somehow, my efforts fall flat as a flimsy pancake.
I zoom in on magazine headlines that promise to get me organized, once and for all, with little or no money involved! I devour them, and think, "What a great idea! I can do that!" They assure me it's so easy... anyone can do it! Yes, even me!! And I excitedly try to implement their clever strategy, and not long after, I look around and realize I have failed once again. The same clutter, the same stuff everywhere, the same messes, the same ol', same ol'.
Aaarrrgghhh! The frustration this causes me is maddening!
It is also very discouraging. Despite my best, well-intentioned and sincere efforts, I never seem to accomplish organization. Maybe I just haven't yet found the right "How to get organized" book and once I do, my home and my life will "poof!" magically change. Uhhh...yeah, I doubt it. So what is the deal? I swear there is something at the genetic level that I'm missing. I know because other women have it, and they seem to run effortlessly like the Energizer Bunny, leaving tidiness, order, and efficiency in their wake. Yes, other women have this gene a hundred times over, and I am genetically defective.
(sigh) At least I make killer chocolate chip cookies.