I thrive on organization. My file cabinet keeps track of all important documents, bills, notices, articles, maps, memberships, directions, and warranties. We have containers for craft supplies, bins for wrapping papers, buckets for crayons, baskets for coloring books. Drawers are labeled, files marked, photos boxed. Everything has a place, and if I can't find a place for it, then it must be thrown away, recycled, donated.
Since we moved, my system of organization doesn't exist anymore, and now I can't find anything. It's not just the stuff we boxed up. Obviously, I know there are things that we'll find when we unpack in a year (like library books I've now had to buy). It's that I don't know where things go, and so I put it somewhere--in some spot, in some bag, on some shelf--and then *poof* it's lost.
Sydney's red leotard.
The Music Man DVD.
Money. Personal checks. Banking statements. All vanished into the ether of our existence. The reason is simple. It's because our stuff is scattered all over the Pacific Northwest. It could be in our apartment, at the farm house, at my parents' house, at my brother's house, at Jason's parents' house. It could be in the car, at school, in the truck, in the golf cart. We are in all these places during the week, always spending the night in at least two homes during the week (last week I stayed in three different beds).
Simple explanation or not, it's still maddening. No matter how hard I try to keep things in one spot--refusing to allow the girls to take their sippy cups up to the farm, making sure we keep certain pairs of shoes in the apartment--ultimately, my brain fails me. I forget my own rules and find thing where they don't belong, like last night when I reached into the cupboard for a sippy cup and found one, only it was full of juice, spoiled and sour. I reached for another one, and discovered it too was full of sour juice.
Bread by the pots and pans. Shoes next to the tv remotes. Bills absent-mindedly thrown away. Fortunately for me, all our bills are paid automatically so I don't have to worry about that responsibility.
It would be funny, except that it's costing us money to replace necessary lost/misplaced items. It's also exacting a sharp toll on me physically. I'm always running into things, dropping things, breaking things. I've even started stuttering, which I do find a little bit comical. My peripheral vision tricks me into seeing things, so I put all my senses on high alert when I'm driving so that I can safely get from here to there.
My poor brain. And my poor stubbed toes.
Only nine more months until all our stuff is under one roof. *long sigh*
This is how it feels to lose your mind, one red leotard at a time.