Junk Drawers & 8 Other Ways to Ruin a Sunday
Cleaning out a junk drawer is like knocking the world off its axis, at least temporarily. I made this mistake Sunday when after searching through my kitchen’s catch-all drawer for a… damn, I’ve completely forgotten the item I originally searched for. Yikes. It doesn’t matter. One look at the once-organized drawer that now resembled the scattered debris after a tornado, I pulled out the assortment of fast food plastic silverware I’d been saving for some unknown reason and decided that something needed to be done.
Three hours and four kitchen drawers later, I’m dashing to Dollar Tree for storage containers to organize all the shit now covering my counters, lamenting whatever insanity led me to start this in the first place. With Dollar Tree’s help (seriously, if you’re organizing drawers, go to Dollar Tree for life-saving little bins—I’m not getting paid to say that), I pulled it all together in enough time to start fixing dinner, but my dining room table is still littered with business cards, cords, random tools, receipts, and a bunch of other things I’ll have to go through asking, “Do I need this?”
The good news is that this organizational tidal wave pushes me into a better place for Thanksgiving.
The bad news is… it washed away what should’ve been a relaxing Sunday. Sigh.
Sundays often get hit with a hodgepodge of unplanned work. It’s a free day, usually. With errands done on Saturday, Sunday becomes either a fun day or a catchall. It can often be difficult devoting a whole day to fun when your mind spins with all the things you have to do. I’ve ruined many a Sunday with this kind of thinking: I didn’t get it done during the week but I have time on Sunday.
Here’s how I’ve wasted other Sundays:
There’re only so many times I can ignore the overflowing hamper in my closet, making it a Sunday-catchall chore. And like with junk drawers, once you start, you can’t stop.
Dusting. “Uh, oh. Now I’ve done it. I’ve made a clean spot. Guess I’ll have to do the whole thing,” Sigourney Weaver as Ripley in Aliens says to Newt when cleaning her face. The same happens with dust. I set my hand on the entertainment console and realize there’s a layer of dust so thick it’s changed the hue of the furniture. And worse, I’ve just made a handprint in it, making it more obvious. Time to break out the Pledge and microfiber cloths. And if I’m doing the console, I’m doing the whole room. Maybe the dining room while I’m at it. Oh, the bookshelves. Good-bye Sunday.
Mopping. There are usually only two reasons I mop… company’s coming or I’ve spilled something on the floor. Unless it’s a Sunday and I’m hit with a productive bug. Get away from me, you ridiculous pests! It won’t take long, I think. I could use the workout, I tell myself. Four hours, one trip to the store for more cleaner, and an aching back later, and Sunday’s over.
Going through the mail. Sitting in my La-Z-Boy, drinking my coffee on a Sunday morning, I might as well do something productive, right? WRONG. This is the wrong kind of thinking for a Sunday. Even so, I grab the basket we toss our mail into, thinking I can clean it out before I’m done with my cup. Ugh, political ads… frustration rises. All this wasted paper… Bills I’d forgotten about… yikes. That’s stress best reserved for, well, any other day of the week.
Flipping through recipe books. I actually LOVE flipping through recipe books… as long as they have yummy pictures. The problem is, they put a bee in my bonnet to spend the day cooking for the week, trying new recipes, and attempting something that typically can’t be done on a weekday because it takes too much time, like making homemade chicken stock or roasting something for a couple hours. Or worse… baking! Noooooo…
Online shopping. Again, sitting in my La-Z-Boy, drinking my coffee, why not pop open the ol’ laptop and browse Today’s Deals on Amazon or click on some links in the many, many emails I get about sales that are ALL ending TODAY? Christmas’ll be here before we know it. Someone’s birthday’s coming up. It seems so right and logical… until four hours later you haven’t bought a damn thing and you realize you’ve been sucked into an online black hole and the only thing that can save you is a break in the time-space-continuum. Egads!
Cleaning the garage. It’s easy to get sucked into this chore on a Sunday. The garage lizards, bugs, and spiders break into a munchkin-like chorus every time I walk in there. “We’re coming to get you, Jessica!” Ha! Not if I get you first, creepazoids! Spending a Sunday battling buggas (that’s what my babies used to call them) may be rewarding in a Ripley-takes-down-the-aliens way,
but by the end of it, you’re dirty, tired, Sunday’s gone, and you know cousins of those little bastards’ll be taking up residence tomorrow. Confession time… right now, there’s a dead lizard on the floor of my garage and I’m leaving him there, for now, to send a message to the others (though he must’ve died of natural causes?).
Writing a Blog about Wasted Sundays. If I consider blogging part of my JOB, then I damn sure shouldn’t be doing it on Sundays. Gotta give my writer-brain a rest.
My point is—yay, there’s a point!—Sundays should be for better things than work. Worship. Togetherness (cleaning the garage together doesn’t count as togetherness, Martha!). Fun. Relaxation. My mission is to stop turning Sunday into a junk drawer of tasks. And just be. Preferably at the beach.
How do you waste your Sundays? Chasing the coyotes, perhaps? Any tips, share below.