….In my dream I’m perfect. A few inches taller, a few pounds lighter, a wardrobe that Rachel Zoe would die for, blah blah blah; all the usual clichés. But then the dream goes deeper. It delves into my (Balenciaga) handbag and doesn’t pull out an old shopping list, a snotty tissue or an odd earing; it digs around all the hidden recesses of my (show) home but finds no dust, cobwebs or fluff; and it roots through the boot and glove box of my (top of the range) car without glimpsing a single empty Haribo or Percy Pig bag. The “dream-me” doesn’t miss appointments, doesn’t constantly run out of milk and wouldn’t shudder at the idea of a surprise visitor.

Dreams and thoughts

(Image used under Creative Commons by Paul Simpson)

Sigh. I think you get the idea.

Let’s face it, at 32 ¾ years old I’m unlikely to transform into my tall, skinny, well-dressed cliché. And frankly I’m not that fussed. I’m happily married with one beautiful boy and another baby on the way. We’ve got a lovely home and both have jobs, so I don’t yearn for all that shiny, glittery, celebrity jazz (much!).

However, I do hate the unlucky-dip that is my handbag and my lovely home isn’t as lovely (read: clean or tidy or even hygienic sometimes) as I want it to be.  And as for my car! I drove past a quite elderly neighbour walking home in torrential rain last week and didn’t stop, solely because I would have been ashamed for her to see the scummy insides of my car. She knows I saw her and I feel awful. She is now most probably bed-ridden with pneumonia, hating me as much as I do. That is still preferable to her seeing inside my car.

I am truly exhausted by the way I live my life. Sometimes it feels like I am one of those little steel balls in a pin-ball machine, ricocheting out of control through the day.  I am forgetful, messy and disorganised.

But something clicked last week. Following the drenched old lady incident, I almost missed a hair appointment and hadn’t sorted out a babysitter. Good old mum came to the rescue, so I made it. But as I sat in the hairdresser’s chair, I snapped and made a resolution that things are going to change.

I need to get some structure. I need to get some order in to my life. I need to declutter. I need to get a duster.

I’m hoping this blog is going to force me to stay focussed and change. It might stop me from falling off the wagon and sliding back to my slovenly ways. I might even find there are people like me out there….

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