Day 315. Still Looking

My mother was a neat freak.  I’ve written about it a few times.  Her idea of a fun afternoon was to organize her drawers.  Not that they needed it.  They were always perfect.  Perfect, little stacks of whatever.  Unmentionables.  Nighties.  Sweaters.  Scarves.  Hosiery.  Socks.  Handkerchiefs.  Jewelry.  Make up.  Whatever.

I’m a lot like her.  But NOT when it comes to drawers.  The inside of my handbags.  Pantry’s.  Cupboards.  Or closets.

In fact, when it comes to ‘order‘, you’d never know my mother and I were even related.  We were total opposites.

It would drive her nuts.  Whenever she’d come to visit me here, in Toronto,  she always tried to put closets on our agenda of things to do.  If we woke up and it was raining, or freezing cold or snowing she’d say (beg), hopefully:  “Fransi, this would be a perfect day to do your closets.  I’m here, I can help you.  We’ll get it done really quickly if

Day 56. Lazy Bones

There was so much I’d planned to do yesterday.   

I was going to attack the paperwork.  Clean out all my files.  Get rid of all the newspaper and magazine clippings I was saving, for one reason or another.  Shred the piles of paid bills, invoices, old receipts, etc. that shouldn’t just be thrown out.  Didn’t get done.  I was going to go through my closets and drawers.  Make piles of what would stay and what would go.  Re-organize, so fall and winter clothes and shoes were more easily accessible.  Didn’t get done.

Then there was the soup I was going to make.  My mother’s chicken soup.  I already have the noodles, celery, carrots, green pepper, onion and parsnips.  All I had to do was pick up some fresh dill and the chicken.  Didn’t get done.  When I first made the list of Sunday chores, I also thought I’d reward myself, by going to a movie at the end of the day.  Even