Whinging and whining

I suppose I will add a title to this when I finish up writing, or if I think of something clever.

Today was like many days.   I felt like doing a cleaning project.    Specifically the garage.  As I was getting ready to go out, I asked about the paint cans.  How many of them do we need to keep.  They look awful.    The reply was not an answer, just words.   "This is not a project that can be worked on now, it has to wait till spring".  That is not a very satisfying answer.   In fact, it felt like I was being told that I don't deserve a real answer.  It was not a rhetorical question.   An answer that might not have made me feel so bad might have been "I don't know, let's talk about it when you get home".

As I was backing out of the driveway I was really pissed off.  Paint cans.   I don't know if it was about the paint, or the way I was spoken to.   As far as the paint goes, I think we could toss all of it.  I cannot imagine any of it has been used in several years.  It has been sitting in the garage through the heat of many summers and the cold of many winters.

I feel like I get shot down all the time.  Maybe I don't, but I feel that way.

My house is a mess, by my standards.  I cannot do much about it.  Cleaning house, I mean really scouring type cleaning, is something I like to do alone.  Often I like to have music playing and I can sweep, mop, scrub the sink, counters and stove top.  It is so satisfying.   Dust the wooden furniture and look at the dirt on the dust cloth.  Scrub the kitchen table and look at the dirty water that gets squeezed out of the sponge.

I am never, or almost never, alone.  It is hard to feel like doing anything when I am sidetracked by the TV, or conversation.  Or whatever.

My own study is a mess, but it is MY mess and I don't think it should bother anyone.  If it does, I can shut the door.   I know I leave things around in other parts of the house.  I have a bunch of stuff on the stairs right now that I need to bring up and put away.  These things are mainly mine- a scrapbook- oh wait, that's Nick's, I just assembled it or him .  Bills.  Yeah, I own all the bills in the house, right.  I am the one who knows where to put the bills because I am the one in charge of paying them.   I am not sure why.  I guess it is part of my control freak personality.  I don't trust anyone else to get the bills paid in a timely enough manor to keep the power and water, gas and cable and internet all running.   I don't really want the job, but I feel like the only one who can do it "right".

Okay, anyway, I was in a snit when I left.  I was planning to go to the gym or go swimming after my call.  I really wanted to exercise today.

But after spending over an hour with a sweet baby and his parents, I feel so mellow that the anger had passed.  I did something good.  I made a difference in someone's life.  I got to watch a mother nurse her baby and see her feel empowered to mother.  The dad was in on it too.  And I got to hold and talk to that baby.

There are times when I leave after a call and have a feeling of not being quite a success.  Wishing I had one more trick up my sleeve.   Feeling doubt.  But usually when I make follow up calls a few days later, things are going better.   And when they are not, I am able to help the new mom see what her success is and how much she has done and how great she is.

So, mellower me came home.  Nick had done some tidying.  He really tries.  Really.  Unfortunately, I have my mother's critical eye.  It is almost impossible for me to look without seeing the things that were not done really very well, or were not done at all.  The difference is, most of the time (99%?) I do not have my mother's tongue.  My mother is the only person I know who was actually fired by the Merry Maids!

Planning to go to the gym in the morning for Pilates class.  I hope I make it.