More words ended up flowing from my fingers than I had intended. I better put this behind the cut. How to summarize what this post contains so you will know whether or not to read it? I don’t know. I think this quote sums it up best:

The point I am trying to make, which I know I am not expressing well at all, is that at the age of forty-one, I am now learning how to handle the mundane trivialities of daily life that likely most of you have been aware of your entire existence.

I realize all the housework talk is probably boring many of you to tears, and while I’d like to apologize, I’m not going to do so. This journal has always been for me. It’s a place where I can get out all the babbling I want to do about the things that are going on in my life, both small and large. Getting my house in order and creating routines to keep it that way, is a big thing for me. My parents raised me to be well-educated. They didn’t raise me to clean house. As sad as this will sound to some of you, I didn’t have household chores to do when I was growing up. I never did the dishes, took out the trash or swept a floor. No one taught me how to cook. I was never expected to dust or do laundry. My job from the age of zero to the age of eighteen consisted of expanding my mind, filling it with knowledge, bringing home good grades, and learning to be a creative, feeling, and thinking human being. It was a job I took to well and succeeded at. Unfortunately, when I left the nest at eighteen and life slapped me in the face, I was left not knowing how to do some of the things that my peers had been doing since they were old enough to walk and talk.

I found my own way, of course, as anyone thrown into a situation they have to face will, but my way wasn’t always the best way. I didn’t know better, and so for most of my adult life I struggled with such basic tasks as doing dishes and washing clothing. I always eventually got it done, but I never felt like I knew what I was doing, I never felt like I was doing it right, and I hated every minute of all of it. It’s hard to enjoy something you know you aren’t good at, and there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind, those who know me well, that I have never been good at keeping house. I tried my best, but I just didn’t know how to do it, where to begin, the best way to get things done. This led to a lot of strife in my life, and I always wonder if anyone ever guessed how lost and small I felt when faced with a pile of laundry or a floor that needed to be mopped. It always made me feel so useless and stupid. Sometimes, it still does. Twenty-three years of adult life under my belt, and I am just now learning how to pick up after myself.

I don’t blame my parents. They had their own goals, dreams, and expectations of how I and my life would turn out. I know neither of those things turned out quite as they would have liked, but I’ve always hoped they weren’t too let down by my choices. They raised me to be headstrong and make my own decisions, and that’s what I have done. Everyone has to make their own life. I’ve made some mistakes along the way. We all do, don’t we? In the end, I have found myself in a place I call comfortable on a bad day and wonderful on a good day. All-in-all, I’d say I am mostly happy, and I think that’s really all any of us can ask for: feeling at the end of the day that you are content with your life. In recent months, I have come to realize I could be happier, and I am making an effort to achieve that. The road is long, the path irregular, and it’s not an easy one to travel, but I know in the end, it will all be worth it. I just have to keep looking forward and moving in that direction.

The point I am trying to make, which I know I am not expressing well at all, is that at the age of forty-one, I am now learning how to handle the mundane trivialities of daily life that likely most of you have been aware of your entire existence. I have never met anyone else who wasn’t required to take part in the daily upkeep of the home when they were growing up … who never had to clear the table, do the dishes, clean a toilet, keep their own room tidy. Until we bought this house, I had never even started a lawn mower, let alone actually mowed a lawn. Sometimes I feel as though my husband thinks I am stupid, and I can see where he might get that impression, if you judge people’s intelligence by how well they clean a floor or wash dishes. What I am is uneducated in the art of mundane life skills. Ask me to tell you about Guy Fawkes, Seti II, Neanderthals, the intricacies of Mitochondrial DNA, and I will recite for you the most current and up-to-date information available on these subjects. Just don’t ask me to start the weed-eater and trim the lawn. I wouldn’t know how.

Up until very recently, the same applied to keeping house. I didn’t know how. No one ever taught me, and the only form of feedback I received on my attempts came in the form of complaints about my lack of abilities to just get it done. It’s hard to do things when you don’t know how and no one explains them to you in a way you understand … or even tries to explain them at all. Most adults just assume everyone not still living with their parents knows the same basic facts about the upkeep of hearth and home. The fact that I don’t has very often made me feel like a freak, and it has certainly made me aware of the grief I have caused others who simply didn’t understand that I didn’t know better … and that led to me feeling as though perhaps I was as useless as they seemed to believe I was. I’m not useless. There are many situations in which I can be extremely useful. If you are in the woods and seriously injured, I will be able to give you a fighting chance for survival with my knowledge of anatomy, biology, medical techniques, and useful plants, but when we get home, I might not know how to fold your underwear, there will be dust bunnies in the dark corners of every room, and I will burn your toast regularly.

I’m still not making my point, because I’m not really certain myself what the point is I am trying to make. I think the point of all of this is I am finally learning those skills that most every adult on the planet takes for granted, and for me, it’s going to be a life-changing event. I’ve only been at this a little over a week, and it has already been life-changing. As I turn my head and look into my kitchen, I see a clean and clear table, I hear my water fountain gurgling, and though I can’t see it from my current vantage point, I know the sink is not overflowing with dirty dishes. There has rarely been a time in my life when a flat surface didn’t collect things and the sink didn’t have dirty dishes in it, and the mere fact these things are a reality this Friday morning brings me immeasurable joy. I know that sounds strange, but it’s true.

There are so many other things that come to mind I’d like to say, but would be only be so much more babble, and I think I have babbled enough for the moment. There will be other times to delve into how being raised with a Depression Era mindset concerning belongings turned me into a pack-rat, or how my spirituality has affected how I perceive and sometimes ignore physical needs. Both of those things relate somewhat to my ability to manage those mundane life tasks, or at least they have affected my outlook on them. The Depression Era thinking needs to be eliminated, and there may need to be some changes made to how I view life as a physical being. As I said, there will be other times to delve into those subjects. I have a long way to go yet. I didn’t develop my bad habits overnight, and as I told my husband a few days ago, this house didn’t get in this state overnight. It’s going to take some time to change my habits and create order where there is now chaos, but for the moment, all that is important is I am learning new ways to do things I have never known before, and I am growing and changing. It feels good.

Right now, I need to go spend fifteen minutes cleaning my front porch and another fifteen minutes de-cluttering a Hotspot (the craft corner in the living room, most likely), and then, because it’s Friday, I’m going to sit at my drawing table and doodle just for the fun of it.