A deep dark secret

I have a deep dark secret. I just don’t think I can hold it in any longer. I have to confess, get it out there in the open. That’s the first step to healing, right?

Here it is.

I’m ready.

Just have to say it out loud (or in the great blogdom).

Ready?

I am….


Just….


As much as ……

I’m really …..

Okay…I’ll just say it. I’m just as much of a perfectionist as my sister is. Sure, I love to tease her about it. Down right make fun of her sometimes. Like just a few weeks ago as she set the table for dinner. Using my grandmother’s old dishes that have a chicken in the middle. Every plate had to be turned the right ray so the chicken wasn’t upside down. She did this, not me. Just to mess with her brain, I turned the chicken around. It gave me a little joy to know that it was driving her crazy. And once…I found her and my tiny lovey, he couldn’t have been more than three, organizing his Legos by color!

But really, I’m not much different. As I played Rumikub with my husband the other night….all of the tiles were in the same color order. Number runs on the left, suit runs on the right. But that’s not all. My CD’s are alphabetized. My closet is organized by color. From dark to light, sleeveless to long sleeve. Short skirts to long pants. Sweaters too, stacked according to color. The list of my perfectionist- organizing ways goes on and on. I’m a “Monica” too. And to be honest, now that Lovey is 12 and has greatly increased the number of Legos in the house, I too have organized them by color.

Is there really anything wrong with this? It’s easy to work with things when they are organized. Easier to work out the thought process. Isn’t it? It’s not that I can’t be spontaneous or a rebel like my sister (http://timefortwittering.blogspot.com/). Who lists the things she is thankful for WITHOUT putting them in order (except for today that is, she just couldn’t help herself).

If you were to walk into my house, you would never know that I’m like this. There is the usual disarray that comes with living with a man and a boy. Not to mention two cats. I can accept their general sloppiness. I’ve whipped them into shape about as much as one woman can. When their manly ways get to be a bit too much for my structured, tidy way of thinking I can slip away in fantasy to my “White Couch World.”

This is a world with no cat hair on the furniture, no dirty smelly tennis shoes left right where they were taken off. Where I no longer answer to Mom or Miche or any of my other names. A place where I can sit in my big comfy overstuffed white chair and read a magazine. Where the book shelves are overflowing with wonderful stories waiting to be enjoyed (all organized by genre, size & author of course). Where there is a giant pantry filled with everything a girl could possibly want for making anything her heart desires. This too perfectly organized. All dry goods in glass jars with metal lids. Canned goods neatly stacked and arranged by food type. The spices all in alphabetical order. A kitchen where the silverware is lined up perfectly with nary a stray spoon in the fork slot. There is a giant porch with a hammock and porch swing where’s there’s always a frosty pitcher & glass of ice cold lemonade. The glass sitting on a coaster-no rings in this perfect world! A bedroom where the bed is always made. A bathroom where the mat is always dry, the towels always hung up and no toothpaste on the mirror. (How does that happen by the way? I don’t have that problem when I brush my teeth, so how do the boys?) A linen closet filled to the bursting with the softest, fluffiest towels and sheets and blankets (oh my). All neatly folded. All in their place. What a lovely dream.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the men I live with. For the cats too. I really don’t mind so much when they get a little out of control. It’s easy enough to fix, and I’d rather have fun with them, than nag them about cleaning up after themselves. But there are times when my White Couch World seems the dreamiest place to be. The boys are there with me, they’re just tidier, that’s all. Oh…and Sissy is there too. Helping to keep things just right.