It’s a hilarious joke that I am the most unorganized person in the entire world. I like to call it “organized chaos”, but that’s not true either. If I find what I’m looking for, it’s sheer LUCK. Come to think of it though, the people at work don’t think it’s funny. Nor does my husband, or my kids teachers. Okay fine. It’s not funny at all.
But it’s okay, because I have surrounded myself with “Type A” crazy, list making people. All of my very best friends, including my sister, make lists of their lists. And then alphabetize them. After carefully color coding them based on level of priority. This means I mostly don’t have to make sure I have my stuff together because they love me enough to do it for me. Even if it means they have to send me a calendar notification, an email, a text message and personally chauffeur me to a lunch date so I don’t forget it.
I don’t try to be the rudest person in the world, I just think of too many things at the same time, all the time. (“Where are you going with this? I don’t have all day to read your blog – in fact I may stop right now!”) No! Don’t go anywhere – I have point. Sort of.
This morning as I was driving in to work I was trying to decide what to blog about today, because I have a million things I want to write about. So then I decided I should make a list. Maybe even a calendar and map out a couple of weeks worth of posts. Which then caused me to laugh maniacally because I don’t make lists Also. I was tired and I’m kind of crazy until I’ve had a Diet DP.
A list of what I need to do today. That I started three and a half hours ago. I have really good intentions and at least 102 things I need to do.
We’ve established I’m funny. I told you as much two days ago – if you don’t know that yet, please go read January 29th’s post. Whether I am good at blogging or not is yet to be seen. SO – in order for us to get to know each other better, I decided that I will tell you some of the things I’m terrible at. (Other than being disorganized. I already admitted that. Kindly shut it.)
And I mean really, really awful. My arms and legs hate each other and refuse to work unless they are all doing the same thing at the same time. My jumping jacks are AWESOME. My coordination/dance skills on the other hand would make Isodora Duncan and Martha Graham weep for humanity. Don’t believe me? A friend and I were taking a Zumba class at a local YMCA. The teacher would say “Great Job today!” and I would say, “Thanks! But I’m terrible.” and then she’d say, “No – you’re doing great!” Flash forward to a class around Christmas time and my friend and I were the only two people who showed up. I am trying my darndest to get my hips and legs to Zum and my head and arms to ba – which means that I looked like a person drowning on dry land. The teacher stops, turns around and looks at me and says, “You really are terrible.” But she said it with a very sweet smile. UNRELATED: I have never, ever taken another Zumba class.
2. Homemaking and/or crafting
This is entirely my fault. I didn’t want to take that stupid class in middle school. I took “Shop” and I don’t care that I still can’t sew on a button (but I can use a drill press like nobody’s business). I tried pintrest. I pinned. I re-pinned. I had a board with all these useful things I was going to make for the house. Amazing ideas for the kids class parties. Recipes I was going to master. I pinned probably more than 100 things. Let’s count how many I used. . (I didn’t forget to type there – that’s how many used – none.) Luckily my husband makes a much better mother than I do. He cooks. He cleans. He sews. And I give atomic wedgies, burp, climb up ladders and scratch my butt. UNRELATED: Most girls marry their fathers. I married my mother.
SETTING: Charity Baseball Tournament for a friend’s brother . It’s early on a Saturday morning with ALL of my coworkers either playing or watching. And tons of other people I don’t know and mostly hope I never see again because AND SCENE: I hit the ball. I run. I fall before reaching first base. I get up. I run. I get to first base and start to head towards second. And fall. And make it to second. Next time up to bat – I hit the ball. I run. And I fall 4 times before reaching third base. I’m not kidding. Center Field – I run to catch the ball – but you know what I do instead? Fall. UNRELATED: I had knee surgery for a torn meniscus that year.
That’s it. That’s all you’re getting today. I’m terrible at a lot of other things, but I’m sure you’ll discover those along our little adventure together. Besides, I really am going to make a list of things to blog about. Definitely. Maybe. I think. Shut up or my Binder Clip Monster will attack you.