The time has come

("The time has come," the Walrus said, / "To talk of many things:/ Of shoes--and ships--and sealing wax--/ Of cabbages--and kings--/ And why the sea is boiling hot--/ And whether pigs have wings.")

Did you know that I memorized "The Walrus and the Carpenter" in fifth grade? We were supposed to memorize a poem and recite it in front of the class, and I chose that one, because that's how I rolled. So I got up in front of the class, recited half of it, and promptly forgot the rest. So I stood there for a while going through the whole poem again in my head until I found my place and finished the poem. Meanwhile all the other 10-year-olds were staring at the door, willing recess to come.

That was just a random memory triggered by the phrase "The time has come." The time has come for Spring Cleaning My Blog. After all these years it has become wedged into my days. Sometimes I refer to it as my third child. You see, I decided sometime last year to post every weekday, mainly because I hadn't posted in several days and I hardly took any pictures, so I wanted some motivation.

Because, obviously I have such provocative/insightful/groundbreaking ideas, pictures, goals to bestow upon 140 of my closest friends Every Single Day.

Side note, my favorite insight about mommy blogs comes from my cousin Karl.

"Unless I know you . . . I just see your mommy-blog efforts to extract some keen insight about the human condition from dirty diapers as, well, full of crap. Lest you think that I am a heartless single young man (which I do not deny), if I do know you I will check your blog like a mom sticks her nose down a toddler's bum looking for stink--that is to say frequently, often during sacrament meeting, and with a perverse familiarity."

Anyway, the Surprise of the Year is that daily blogging turned into yet another outlet for my obsessive compulsive personality.

I have never actually been diagnosed with OCD but I am certain that I have it in a very mild form. If you don't know what that's like, I want to tell you--because you know a ridiculous amount of information about me already--that it can be agonizing. Since my declaration that I Post Every Day, if I haven't posted for the next day, I get a gleam in my eye and frantically say to Matt, "I know it's 11 p.m. and you just turned the computer off but I HAVE TO POST FOR TOMORROWWWWW!" I mean, I wrote a blog post like three hours after Ida was born.

That really needs to stop. There is no reason for that kind of lunacy. Heaven knows I don't get that obsessive about finishing the laundry or cooking dinner. (or doing my church calling or working on my nonpaying paying job.)

And so. I hit rock bottom last week. This place was a disaster.

(The Walrus and the Carpenter/ Were walking close at hand;/ They wept like anything to see/ Such quantities of sand:/ "If this were only cleared away,"/ They said, "it would be grand!"

("If seven maids with seven mops/ Swept it for half a year./ Do you suppose," the Walrus said,/ "That they could get it clear?"/ "I doubt it," said the Carpenter,/ And shed a bitter tear.)

I spent an Entire Day putting away and throwing away, scrubbing floors and vacuuming, and doing Seven Loads of Laundry. Washed, dried, folded, hung up. There was not a single time throughout the daylight hours that the washer and/or dryer was not running. Then after the kids were in bed, I sat and looked at it all, wishing I could bottle the cleanliness and put it in my pocket. Even though I couldn't, it was so much more satisfying than opening up a Create Post window.

To quote the Movie Full of Quotes for Every Occasion, "My head is starting to get fuzzy..." (perfect conversation ender, don't you think?) Mainly I wanted to thank you for reading this, even though the fact that you do just feeds the insanity. I'm sorry for any TMI moments that may have occurred during your time here. And I just want to warn you...there will be more.

Just not every day.