Platitude Paradise

...as in: I am fraught with self doubt. If I could make just one wish, I think it would be to have the ability to know the difference between instinct and fear. { Oh - who the hell do I think I am kidding? If I had one wish, I'd want money. Plain and simple. Then, it wouldn't matter what was fear and what was instinct. } I performed an organizational service for a client this past Friday. It was awful. Truly. She has OCD and (based solely on my non-professional and completely uneducated medical opinion) a hoarding disorder. But, she wants help ... she just isn't ready. I learned a BIG lesson. Several of them, actually. The "Coles Notes" version of the story is as follows: I spent just over nine hours working on three of four closets I was hired to organize. I got to hour six (and closet three) and she lost it and had to have everything back the way it had been. So, I did as I was asked. She paid me half of the original $90 quote (which was barely a third ...

I have won a job! It is taking place tomorrow ... likely for most of the day, although I gave her a deal of only 3 hours.  This lady is just lovely. She is (I would guess) in her early seventies, has a teeny little geriatric yorkie and is OCD to the enth degree. Her place is immaculate. Seriously. You could eat off the floor in that place, I'm sure.  So ... why would she hire the likes of me? She's a closet hoarder ... literally. She stockpiles ... like a squirrel. There are four closets in her home and they are so full ... though admittedly, there is an organization to the chaos. She's reaching out for help (which according to what I have been reading on the disorder, is a very positive sign). I met with her the other day and she essentially told me that I don't have a chance of actually accomplishing anything with her. That she will not let me throw anything out. She will not let me downsize her clothing that doesn't fit. That all I will accomplish is...

It's true. He ALWAYS looks like he has somewhere to be. I think the pissing on the beds is a cover. Because nobody would suspect a cat who's pissin' was a Secret Agent ... right?  To whom would his 'intel' be valuable?  Hmm... *crickets chirping* Boy, that's a sticker, eh?  Who in the heck would care, really.  Still ... I am convinced. He's certainly up to something. In other news ... Hubs and I would have celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary yesterday ... if his father hadn't died the week before our scheduled date, forcing us to reschedule our nuptials. I maintain that he did that intentionally. Our unofficial anniversary wasn't really in any way connected to what took place yesterday, but we went on a date! First one in ... oh, dear ... I really couldn't tell you how long. I'm gonna say there would be 'years' in the equation.  We went to see Star Trek and utilized a gift card that Hub...

Yeah. I'm back. Guess I still have things to say ... what a shocker. I have been wandering around my life for the past several weeks nearly tripping over my bottom lip. I don't really understand why I am so glum. I mean, it isn't like there aren't stressors, but I've tromped just a little too far into ridiculous just now. I am second guessing E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G... and in the process, I am driving myself (and everyone around me) Cray Cray. Let me give you a 'for instance': I am attending a number of groups and classes. One is a parenting group every Thursday evening. One is for the self employment program that happens every second Tuesday evening and one is a marketing training class that I managed to wiggle into with the Women in Business located in my home town. That happens every Tuesday (all day) ... but it is by far my favorite. THESE women know their collective shit! ...and I feel like a complete moron in their presence. So ......

This is such a fear for me that I tend to explain myself into either crazy stalker status or drive people away with my incessant justification, reasoning and explanation... not to mention waffling, retooling and general pain-in-the-assery. It drives people away. The very people to whom I want to be closest. The more things change, the more they stay the same.  I often contemplate whether I am wasting precious energy trying to understand why I do, say and feel the things I do. My official position on this is that it's all part of making positive change. I am beginning to wonder if I should just continue living under the assumption that I am 'normal' (whatever in the hell THAT is) and stop trying to make something interesting out of it. There are a couple of festering situations wreaking havoc on my world just now. They are keeping me awake at night ... haunting my thoughts during the day and basically derailing any actual progress ... in any of the areas in ques...

The trouble with self assessment is being successful at it. Did you know that? I don't mean to try and put any sort of sexy face on my problems, I mean I really do know they are boring - trust me - but hear me out a little here: I have kind of spent the past three or so years re-evaluating (and in some cases, re-inventing) myself ... front to back. Right? I started by scheduling my initial referral appointment for weight loss surgery ... I believe that would have been September of 2009. I still can't believe I was ever 309 lbs ... but I was ... and I am not, now. I'm no bikini model and there are plenty who would still call me 'fat' (not likely to my face as I projectile cry) but I can gussy myself up to go out, and hold my head high whilst I peruse the aisles of Wal-Mart .... safe in the knowledge that I will NOT wind up on the "people of Wal-Mart" web site. *phew*. Color me happy with myself.  Then, there was the whole 'Stretch is trying...

I do, you know. I really do.  My life is pretty Cadillac.  I have this amazing man - who totally "gets" me. I have this huge house, that I really do love and these crazy assed kids that say and do the damnedest things. I look around and realize if I could just afford the lifestyle that I have - things would be sweet ... for a minute, at the very least. So ... this means I must find a way to make my business idea produce fruit. Right? It's not a bad idea. I just need to market it properly. As it happens, I have a mandatory class tomorrow for "core business training" that is all about marketing.  I hate marketing. Every position I have held since the bank has tried - with all its might - to squeeze marketing genius out of me. It isn't really there. I have had some decent ideas, but this really isn't my forte.  I built my website, designed my business cards and have been smashing my head against my brochures all this past wee...