The only super power I've always wanted was the ability to transmute (or some similar word, not bothering to look up) matter into other matter. Real world example, turning the thousands of tiny toy pieces I am sick of seeing coat my floor into a fabulous pair of yoga pants. Yes, I'm bitching about the mess in my house again.
But it's part of a larger discussion. Not only do I want to live in a tidy house with less clutter, it would behoove the environment if my household didn't create so much trash and seemingly hoard so many possessions. I know my son doesn't need the sheer amount of stuff he has. And, when he's not looking, some of it gets freecycled, thrown away, occasionally sold. I'm not trying to be an evil mother but I think having so much causes him internal chaos. I know it causes me all sorts of cranky.
I don't set the best example. My bedroom looks like I've allowed gypsies to camp there, but to be fair to myself, the largest portion of junk in there belongs to my son. It's where he hides his guilty pleasure of playing with an inordinate amount of Littlest Pet Shop pets, playsets, tiny plastic food. A collection he will show his small female friends but keeps from his male pals.
I don't have a good solution. Either I get that power to transmute, turning all the clutter into fashionable ensembles and good furniture, I am suddenly flush with enough cash to pay minions to clean up for me, or I just get to work. Meanwhile, as I wait for the Sears repairman to show (between 8 and 5, the most venal phrase ever uttered) to determine why the dryer dries so poorly AND leaves weird brown marks on our laundry, I will try to pick up a few things. Because it's getting hard to explain to strangers why the house of a woman who works from home looks like I let in hobo lodgers.
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