One of the things I learned about myself after leaving my now ex-wife was that I am not a messy person, at least within my home. I will admit that my boat was often a mess, what with the various projects I was forever working on. At home, however, I like a neat home, a tidy home. I like it when things are in their place. I bugs me when they are not in their place, even moreso when I am unable to put them in their place.
Things left laying about bother me enough that, just now, I stopped writing this post to put some things away which were on the ledge between my kitchen and entryway. The problem is that as I put them away, I noticed a couple more which I have to remember to deal with later. Remembering them is the key. On top of that, there are several things laying about which I cannot put away; their storage or normal location is now out of my reach, or they are in a position where I cannot pick them up.
Take for instance the light switch cover plates on that same ledge. Those I could toss into my large item tool bag, just to get them out of the way. They really belong in my fix-up junk box, the one two shelves too high in my bedroom closet, the shelf I cannot reach. It's the same place the old hardware from my front door belongs, the hardware the condo board asked me to remove so they could paint the doors. Now I find out they are not going to re-use this old hardware; they are putting new stuff on, so the old stuff sits there until I remember to ask someone to put it away. The same with the screws for those cover plates; they belong in the fasteners container up on that second shelf.
I think the ones which get to me the most are the ones left by others; left in places I cannot reach which I tidy up. These kinds of things are often left by the homemaker and by caregivers, lest they move something they shouldn't move. They are trained to leave things where they find them. Oddly enough that training only seems to work with trash bits. When it comes to caregiving items, those seem to move all over the place, lost one week, found another.
Another interruption. I could no longer stand the light switch plate screw on the floor in the hallway, or the other screw on the end table in the living room. I couldn't put them away, but at least they are on the ledge with the others. While I was at it I picked up the old wine instruction sheet of the floor of the bathroom along with the dirty cleaning cloth. Then, when I tossed the cloth in the laundry, I grabbed the paper towel off of my hospital bed-stand, the one left there by my HCA this morning.
You might think, with all the time I have on my hands, that this kind of tidying would give me something to do. True, it does. It also wears me out, quickly. Right now my arms are shaking from the work. My typing is slowing down, getting worse, as the weakness in my arms transfers downwards, the shaking in my fingers causing me to create even more typographical errors than usual.
So now I am exhausted. I need a rest. All from picking up a few bits and pieces other people have left behind. I know they don't do it on purpose. In their life it's nothing, a mere trifle to be dealt with next time round. For me, it's a full day of work.
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