I have a problem…
Not a “kinda” or “sorta” kind of problem.
But a real life…BIG…problem.
One that affects me every day…and everyday I have to deal with it.
Or at least I have to deal with how it causes other people to, well, grieve.
Because, quite honestly, it doesn’t affect me at all.
Not one tiny bit.
Unless I have to hear about it.
And just in case you think I’m kidding…I’ll show you.
I don’t shut doors.
Not even car doors.
Because who wants a door shut in their face?
And isn’t life all about opening doors? Why not leave them open?
Unless you’re having company…which is about the only time I ever notice my openness. Then it’s a good time to close everything up. Which I do.
It makes the house instantly clean.
But otherwise it’s just too cumbersome…even when I’m conscious about it.
Case in point: I write better with tea and just got up to get some. It was stale cinnamon (from that Ziplock next to the oatmeal) if you’re wondering. I knew you were. And I peeked back to see whether I’d shut the cabinet.
Sometimes, my husband’s life is threatened when he comes in the kitchen (too rapidly). Because nearly every day I leave the spice cabinet open.
Not opened somewhat, like you see here, because all of these pictures were taken on a good day, but fully opened.
Put your eye out open.
At least that’s what he thinks.
I do not want to cause physical harm to other people who live with me. I’m just brilliant (that’s the only logical explanation).
And brilliant people do not have time to shut doors.
Honestly, we don’t.
I might stand a chance if I didn’t come from a whole family of brilliants. A whole line of brilliants, in fact, on my mother’s side.
And nothing my father, and his whole family (all door-closers, every last one of them) ever modeled for me could undo the innate brilliance.
I had a sibling who was the most brilliant of all. Not only were doors not shut but everything was left pulled out. People talked. They said, “We know whose been in here!”
But my level of brilliance never garnered any attention around my kin. Too much of my dad in me. Organization, systems, “a place for everything and everything in it’s place”, coupled with. . .well. . . the maternal brilliance.
I’m a dichotomy; of brilliance and organization.
Although not everyone recognizes it as brilliance. (We won’t discuss what’s wrong with them.)
But call it what you will, brilliant people do not shut doors. Period.
Nor are we inclined to close drawers.
Not even drawers that impale people who walk into them.
It’s not that we don’t care (speaking on behalf of brilliant people everywhere); we’ve just got more important things to worry about, things we can actually change.
For instance, there are several other very real, self-admitted faults that I am already actively trying to work on:
1. I don’t watch enough television.
2. I’m far too kind, to everyone.
3. I never get my nails done anymore.
That’s a big chunk of change right there so it’s not like I could even think about working on anything else right now (assuming I needed to).
Besides, the best way to keep things accessible is to not spend too much time making them inaccessible in the first place!
(Sorry to state the obvious.)
But, all brilliance aside, even when I’m trying I can’t help myself.
I’m forever running to restart the washer machine because I forgot to close the lid. Or stopping a grating garage door because the back of the car is open. Or wrangling my 23 month old daughter out of the refrigerator. . .because I’ve left that door hanging open too.
I’ve even started slipping and leaving the bathroom door cracked . . . with an escapee toddler who quickly makes papier-mâché with tissue paper and toilet water, I know! (I’m telling you; I cannot be rehabilitated.)
So instead of beating myself up every time I catch myself being careless, I try to focus on the things I’m good at.
One of my daily affirmations is that I am excellent at opening and closing the curtains and blinds. I let the sunlight in every room of the house each morning and I cozy us in again by dusk.
And I turn off lights. Even ones I’m using. Even ones other people are using.
I excel at this.
And I close baby gates. Every time. Everywhere. No matter what. Even if someone is walking right behind me and there’s not a toddler in sight. (Is it just my husband, or would you find this unacceptable also?)
I even put down toilet seat lids. Because everyone is good at something. Or in this case, several things.
But there’s nothing to be done for my doors and drawers.
We’ve considered therapy. Retraining. Consequences.
And I’d thought about removing all the cabinet doors (which is kind of in vogue right now anyway) but then there’s always . . . the drawers.
And I wasn’t very concerned about all this until we spent the last two nights having breakfasts and dinner and washing up dishes on an RV.
Talk about tight quarters. And actually putting your eye out if you don’t shut doors and drawers.
Not that I’m going to spend the rest of my life on an RV but this weekend getaway has gotten my wheels spinning (there’s a pun) about maybe having one some day. And then of course I’ll be spending my retirement years on a yacht, which would involve shutting doors and closing drawers if I didn’t want my things to float away.
One sharp turn, or ill-timed wave and my organization would be kaput.
If my house weren’t stationary I’d be at a loss.
And these several hundred-something Pull-Ups I told you about would be everywhere.
All the storage bins in the world wouldn’t save me.
I mean, how can anyone expect that of me? When I can’t even close doors and drawers behind me?
It’s liberating. Somewhat.
So, if all of life were a photo shoot, it’d be all good.
But it’s not.
So…I have a problem.
a real life…BIG…problem.