Time.

There are not enough hours in a day. So cliche.

Many days there are more than enough hours. I just don't always use them efficiently.
My mother is super organized. She thinks I don't plan ahead just to annoy the shit out of her. Good thing we live several states apart.
I don't want to think about what's for dinner at 7am. Even when I don't my family gets fed. And not from bottles and boxes and jars.
There is not a specified time to clean the cat box, but it's rarely overflowing.
I don't have a laundry day. It's every day.

My job is my family. Organization and efficiency are all about the end game. Getting things DONE.
But this work I do, it's never done.
It's a good fit for me I think.
My husband always claims that if he were the one to stay home that the clothes would be folded and put away, the kids wouldn't know art supplies even existed outside of a classroom, and he and the vacuum would have a close personal relationship.
Have at it honey. I'll start looking for an empty padded cell for you...

So instead of focusing on a nonexistent finish line, I set priorities. Today they include ferrying my kids to and from school at the appropriate times, making something edible out of the rotten bananas on the counter, and battling scum in the shower. YAY.
Because I'm my own boss, I also get to "waste" a little time on the blog, in the yoga room, and doing the Thursday crossword.

My lost hours are really just pieces of myself I steal back from the unending circle of mundane busywork. It would be so easy to do my job "better" but then where would that leave me?

I propose that my unorganized life is a sign of maturity, not the opposite. That's my story and I'm sticking to it...