“Today I want you get up and get dressed to lace-up shoes when you first get up in the morning. This means fix your hair and face, too. In order for us to change ourselves, we need to remind ourselves of what we are doing. I did this with yellow sticky notes throughout my home to guide me through my day. This was the beginning of my home control journal. I had little notes on my bathroom mirror to remind me to get dressed to shoes. Shine your sink before you go to bed.”
Shining sinks. That’s it? Why didn’t my mother teach me this? I’ve lived my miserable disorganized life sunk in the squalor of sinks stained with grime and particulates filtered from leftover dishwater; scarred with rust resembling bloodstains; slimy with grease gobs around the fixtures; fouled with the odor of an overworked garbage disposal belching undigested garlic and fried cabbage into the miasma of a decidedly unshiny sink overflowing with bowls of dried up uneaten cat food and congealing mystery meat fused to plates with egg yolks; stacked to almost toppling with the evidence of my disorder that shames me every time I shuffle into the kitchen wearing my bedroom slippers with smashed down heels, and a dingy cotton robe trailing its tattered sash behind on the unwept linoleum me to get more Doritos.
It is no wonder that I’ve had to stick notes on my bathroom mirror to remind me to do some stuff like put in my false teeth; put on shoes; and stop doing other stuff like to stop like meth; and spreading STDs; and watching HSN all day.
Shining frickin’ sinks? If I was given to profanity, I would have added some at the end of the previous sentences. Fortunately, I awoke this morning and found a note on the mirror to clean up my potty mouth, and shine some sinks sporting shoes.
What, you ask is Flylady.net? Let’s just all hope it’s satire.