How to be an organised woman...

I've got a tendancy to write blog posts in a word doc, and save it to complete later, or forget completely.
I found the following post (written in September 2011 - the month of the antidepressants!) in such a file, and it made me laugh. Hopefully it makes you laugh too.

I got a bunch of books out of the library this week.
All sorts of self-help books. Women in business, Business women. How to not just be a token woman in business. Dealing with business as a women. Taking care of woman business
You get the idea…

Basically I am interested in learning more effective techniques for the day-to-day and to improve my future career.
One of the books I got was about being more organised. The book was pink, so I knew it was actually a “How to be an organised lady” subtext.
I started with it because one of the issues I had was a distinct lack of time to do what I wanted to do as opposed to the stuff I felt like I should do. The book was a horrible disappointment and almost lead to my first panic attack since I started on anti-depressants.
Each chapter had patronising little quotes about how great women are and how useless men are, followed by things that you could do that would streamline your life.
Such as labelling everything that goes into the freezer, cooking multiple meals at a time. Scrubbing the floor while enjoying your favourite TV programme. Having all your herbs and spices in one place, with clearly defined with expiry dates.
Asking your partner to chip in.

WTF???
My partner was already valiantly running the household while I was never there.
I didn’t even know that our spices COULD expire! This was clearly designed for people who had NOTHING to do but couldn’t figure out why nothing was getting done.
It was essentially a chores list for people who have nothing better to do that store pillow cases between books to avoid ironing.
WHO THE FUCK IRONS ANYTHING LET ALONG PILLOW CASES!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (That many exclamation marks is a sure sign that my mental illness was winning.)

I was almost homicidal by the second page, but at least I got up early today, too angry to lie in bed enjoying the fact I don’t have to work.

So here is MY advice to streamline your life.
Get your partner to write down their responsibilities, while you do the same on a different page.
Now each go through and tick what you ACTUALLY DO.
Redistribute chores so that ones that are being missed are swapped or negotiated, or split.
If this doesn’t work, or you can’t negotiate an even workload, find a fresh partner, or enjoy the peace of a single life.

If you are single, hire a cleaner and give them the list of most hated jobs and some money – life is too short to iron.

If the garden needs re-digging start a rumour that there is treasure in your garden then throw a party for the local 11 year olds. No one has more energy than a kid on a treasure hunt.

Tell people who sell label machines, tuppaware, and other assorted kitchen crap to fuck off. If you need to store that much food, you are buying too much or eating too little.

People who like to organise things do it because they like it. Don’t feel guilted into having a matchy-match kitchen or office space if the thought of it doesn’t give you a total lady boner. As virtuous as it looks, no one should do it for any reason other than personal satisfaction.

Bakerys are there for a reason. Cupcakes from the supermarket can be put in kitsch cupcake wrappers and sent to school with the kids with a clean conscience.

Schedule the fun stuff, your guilty conscience will ensure the jobs get done, and you will end the day a better person for it.

The most awesome people I know have houses that are a mess, because they are busy doing awesome things in it. Visit other people’s houses or get some cool friends who love your mess as much as they love you.

Staple multiple “magic mops” to your and your partner’s shirts and make love on the kitchen floor. If you are doing it right a vigorous 30 minute cleaning session should leave both you and the tiles glowing.

If your job has you out of town more than the three days a week they promised at the interview, quit and take three weeks off to sleep, eat and tell everyone you love them and you are sorry.

(And I did. And it was AWESOME!) x SN.