I’ve never been one of those
”
Take Five Easy Steps to Self Improvement
”
type of people. Oh, it’s not as though I don’t try to be one of
those people, you know, enrolling in a yoga class or waking up
every morning and reciting a mantra, but I prefer to get my
self-improvement by lying on the sofa watching daytime talk
shows.
I’ve never been one of those “Take Five Easy Steps to Self Improvement” type of people. Oh, it’s not as though I don’t try to be one of those people, you know, enrolling in a yoga class or waking up every morning and reciting a mantra, but I prefer to get my self-improvement by lying on the sofa watching daytime talk shows.
But, that was before my friend Sue told me about “The FlyLady.” She’s not some kind of cute, new cartoon character. Noooooo. She is a real person who devised an entire system dedicated to cleaning and organizing your house, kind of like a 12-step program for delinquent housewives.
She’s had a Web site for several years called, of course, FlyLady.com, and I tried it once and it didn’t go well. I thought I’d try it again, though.
Now, I am supposed to receive several mass-distributed e-mail messages throughout the day containing reminders, cleaning tips and other secrets on how to inflict orderliness upon the world. All I have to do is to follow her e-mailed instructions, and like magic, my life would be rid of domestic chaos once-and-for-all.
Day One:
Started the morning at 7am. Flew out of bed and turned on the computer, eager to read my first message. Followed FlyLady’s suggestion to put on lace-up shoes and clean the sink. Have no idea what tennis shoes have to do with a clean sink, but put them on anyway. Everything is going great.
9am: Received a reminder to plan what we’re eating for dinner. This will avoid hassles later. Clearly, the FlyLady is a genius.
10am: I received a subtle missive asking me if I knew, exactly, where my laundry was. After searching underneath several plausible places, I finally found some stray socks underneath the ottoman and tossed them in the washing machine.
noon: Message from the FlyLady to clean purse, take out kitchen trash and spend five minutes clearing a space of clutter. I put the trash bag into the master container in the garage. Cleared off the countertop by sliding a pile of old newspapers into the empty garbage can. Turned purse upside down and poured old gum wrappers and business cards onto clean counter top.
1pm: “Accidentally” deleted one of the new messages.
2pm: Drank a whole pot of coffee trying to clean the grout in my bathroom with a toothbrush.
4pm: FlyLady says it’s time to sweep the front porch. Instead I lean over and shout at the computer monitor, “Make me! If you want it cleaned so badly, Lady, come on over here and do it yourself!”
5pm: I hate the FlyLady with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I refuse to wear shoes in the house one nanosecond longer.
8pm: I’m convinced the FlyLady is really a sadistic ex-truck driver named Earl who sits at his computer all day long chewing tobacco, drinking beer and e-mailing organizational tips to housewives.
Day Two:
Started the morning at 7am. Flew out of bed and unplugged the computer. Ate breakfast barefoot. Left dirty dishes in sink and poured another cup of coffee.
9am: Shoved a pile of clean socks off the recliner and read three chapters of a trashy romance novel.
10am: Reflected on how nice it is to have some control over my own life.
