THERE'S A FRUIT LOOP IN MY HEATING VENT

Do you ever have a day when you suddenly stop in your tracks and realize that you have become that person? That person that you told yourself you would never become? It’s a little startling when you realize it, but life does that sometimes; stops us in our tracks and holds up a mirror that shows us parts of ourselves that we haven’t yet acknowledged. Wow, it can be traumatic!
I always told myself I wouldn’t be one of those people who:

*Have enough crumbs, old french-fries, and jellybeans on the floor of their car to sustain a small rodent for several days.
*Leaves their shopping cart in the middle of the store parking lot instead of carefully returning it properly to the corral.
*Browses library book shelves and then leaves the books on a table instead of properly re-shelving them.

It’s not that I’m a terribly orderly, neat, or fastidious person at home - far from it. However, out and about, I strove hard to tow the line, follow the rules, keep things in their proper place. And now, I leave that cart by the side of the car, grit my teeth, and drive away. The residual guilt lingers, but it’s not hardy enough for me to take the time to run that cart back to the store. Why?

Because I’m a mom. I’m a mom of two young children. I’m a mom of two young children who is drowning in disorganization. I am inexorably, unreformably disorganized and scattered. And the 30 seconds that it would take me to return unwanted groceries to their proper aisle or library books to their proper shelves is just beyond me! It’s sad, it’s ridiculous, it’s true.

The other day I walked by the heating vent in my hallway, looked down and saw that a green froot loop had been carefully dropped through the opening and was precariously close to falling into the abyss of the duct. I saw this, and walked right on by. There’s a froot loop in my heating vent and I cannot take the time to stop and fish it out. Why? Because taking the few seconds to do that would mean I would have to stoop, put down the laundry basket I’m carrying, fish out the froot loop, get distracted and walk away to help someone with something else. Two weeks later that laundry basket would still be sitting there. You think I’m kidding? I’m not. And so, there’s a froot loop in my heating vent, and I walk right by.

There are worse things: but sometimes it’s hard to remember that.

Jan. ‘08