Right before hubby & I got married I took a second job at a local gift store to help defray the cost of my credit card debt. See how nice I made that sound? Fine. I was paying off my MILLIONS of credit cards.
I used to love working in the gift section. It was somehow therapetic to dust the shelves, make the gifts look pretty and display everything in a catchy way so people bought stuff. (Be quiet! Yes, I used to actually ENJOY dusting.)
I HATED working in the card section. By the end of a card section shift I would have greeting card rage. That's right. Envelopes, cards. Envelopes, cards. Everything looks pretty. Then some romantic smuck comes in and reads EVERY card in the 'I love my man' section and puts them back in all the wrong places. Fix them. Start all over. This cycle leaves you feeling like the job is never done. Hence, GC rage at the romantic smuck.
Here's where I am going with this (I know, I am acting like a true Irishman telling a story and NEVER getting to the point), my life at home is like the card section. I pick up, put back, pick up, put back. Then the cherubs blow through the joint and leave a trail. Everyday. Eighty times a day. Never fails.
To avoid toy rage, I need a new system. One that gets them to pick up their own stuff! Ahh, imagine that.
1 comment:
I worked at a card store too and I love the parallel... my life is also like a card store - the mess the chaos - it's enough to make me want to curl up and eat way too much chocolate!
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