Romanian Dead Lifts

and other impossible things

Today I finished some laundry tasks including folding a pile of underwear which I hate doing. As I confronted the inevitable pile, I decided, upon zero consulting with myself on the consequences of such a rash act, to forego the Marie Kondo Fold and just shove it all in the drawer at once.

So, I don’t know about you all, but I have clear cycles of organizational commitment which are brought to highs and lows by the circumstances surrounding me in the moment. For example, right now I have what feels like a zillion things on my to-do list. There’s the Dawson incarcerated students thing, and the Chickadee Community Services thing, and the WMPLC thing, and also I have three reimbursement forms to fill out and a million receipts to annotate and file, also my actual job, and my kids lose their keys and I have plants to keep alive. Also I enjoy sitting on my patio and playing with my cats¹ and it’s all too much.

When I can see this stuff coming, I start the subconscious organizing. I download the FlyLady app² and begin using it. I find myself cruising the cleaning supplies and office supplies aisles at Target. I double down on the Marie Kondo and buy things like packing cubes for travel. When I was a teacher, right before school started, I would clean my house room by room. I didn’t even know I was doing it, but it was clearly a mental coping system for all the wack that was about to hit me. I must stay On Top Of The Chaos before it balloons into Mayhem. Havoc. Bedlam. Mental Pandemonium.

Eventually though, the systems begin to crack. The spokes holding the wheel together loosen and fly off, one by one. First, I kick the FlyLady app to the curb. Then my car, filled with summer wreckage, persists in this state and I cannot be bothered to even raise the back seats still down from the last camping trip. Next thing you know I am dumping clean skivvies into the drawer with no regard for tidiness or identification.

Here’s a dude on the youtube demo-ing a RDL which I cannot do. My body doesn’t bend that way. Doesn’t stop me from crying about it.

Which leads to this scene: so my daughter has locked her car and lost the keys and we’ve called the AAA for assistance. After the doors are opened, we are retrieving some items for her apartment. One is this heavy ass skillet and I am like you want me to carry this plus some other stuff on top? It’s too heavy! And then I am leaning into the car telling her how my physical therapist wants me to do Romanian dead lifts like every week and I cannot do them³ and I want to be good at everything I do and my daughter is like whoa Mom you were asleep until 20 seconds ago and what’s this therapy now? And I am now laughing because I’m confessing to her my worst fear: NOT BEING GOOD AT SOMETHING and I think about the tragic underwear drawer and the mess in my car and the fact that I have not shined my sink⁴ in literally days! And how ironic it is, that I desperately need order and yet I’m creating more chaos every second. Now she’s bent over the back seat silently laughing and I’m cry-laughing and suddenly I’m actually crying, on my knees on 4th street in front of Bridge Pizza leaning into her car sobbing about the fucking Romanian dead lifts that I cannot do.

What’s the answer? Make a new to-do list? Pull the chonies out and refold à la MK? Or do I abandon the attempts at maintaining the order, say fuck it and let things just happen? How do you manage your inundations?

My evening view. Pure calm.

How I’m actually handling it is by drinking a Mountain Man scotch ale on my patio on a deliciously cool evening. There’s very little traffic, clouds and sky pinked with sunset and not smoke. It’s mostly quiet out here about 9 pm, the birds and the toddlers having gone to bed and the drinkers firmly planted on bar stools in downtown Missoula. Some dog-walkers are still out. My bed with its plush topper is calling to me. Maybe tomorrow I’ll think again about the RDLs or the car, but tonight calms my frantic brain. The rush, the slow, the exhale. It’s what I need most.

1. That’s right, plural. There’s a kitten now.

2. Check her out. Old school website plus app. She’s kinda Christian or something but you can ignore that stuff pretty easily. If you like to organize your cleaning, here is your how.

3. there’s this whole hip-hinge/weight balance that is just impossible. For me, anyway. It makes me want to cry every time we walk over to that stupid bar.

4. see FlyLady for this reference