Self-Portrait Tuesday: All of Me, Week 4

I had this photo that I was going to use for this last February Self-Portrait. See it? No? Take out your magnifying glasses. There, NOW do you see it? I'm not sure what happened to it between now and when I made it. It was the right size then. Maybe all the rain we've had, it shrunk. Okay, never mind. The photo was supposed to be a clever way to say that one of my flaws is how I always manage to leave things half finished. Or half undone. Guess it depends on whether you're an optimist or a pessimist. And now, I suppose, it also shows how I can screw things up.

But I decided that it didn't really count, and I'd just fall back on a fault that I don't make much of an effort to hide from anyone. My clutter.


Here I am sitting, trying to show all the exhaustion and despair I feel over my seemingly never ending battle with clutter. Honestly, William just took the photo and it probably is more accurately showing that I'm sick and sleepy, but help me out here, pretend it's despair. Because sometimes that IS how I feel.

I didn't cheat and tidy it up beforehand. I thought about it though. I mean, look! I even left the cat asleep on the table. My cats aren't allowed on my tables, or counters. See how this cat saw me coming and rushed off in fear of my wrath? You don't? Neither do I. They always look at me in surprise when I pick them up and toss them, like "Hey, whaddit-I-do!?"

Along with the cat, there's a pile of laundry on a chair, that's what I'm leaning on. A box of old paperwork that's been knocked to the floor at least six times. Those green flannel sheets hide a whole stack of other stuff, most of it, including the sheets, are supposed to be boxed up and mailed to my son and DIL. That particular pile is conveniently hiding a stack of snowflake plates that never got put away with the other holiday stuff. And other assorted bags, books, papers, and .... I can't really tell because the photo turned out kinda dark, huh.

I clean this table off on a regular basis. It usually takes at least an hour, sometimes a whole afternoon. It stays clean for a few days and then slowly and insideously begins to disappear again over a matter of weeks.

The worst part - when my husband tries to eat or use the table as a "flat surface", I yell at him. For decades I fed a family of seven at this table. Even with kids homework and play dough projects and assorted family activities, this table was always available for breakfast, lunch, snacks, and dinner. Now, we eat in the livingroom.

How come I can't keep up?