Taking the House by Storm

The trials and tribulations of the average gal trying to navigate through life, love and the pursuit of domestic bliss.

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Eureka! I'm finally starting.

Wow. If there's one unequivocal thing you can say about me, it's that I'm a procrastinator. I've been talking about this Taking the House by Storm idea for a couple of years now. If my memory weren't crap, I could pinpoint the time frame more accurately. But one thing I can pinpoint is that I started Phase I – writing for this blog – way back on February 7, 2006. I know this because of the handy little date stamp my beloved PowerBook puts on everything I start. Which is a lot. Anyway, that's almost a full freakin' year ago. Pathetic.

And probably not really worth mentioning, but it may give you some insight into why I have such difficulties every time I attempt any project around the house. But let's start where I left off almost a year ago.

I'm not a super hero, but I do like to think of myself as a fairly decent representation of the average woman trying to find a little domestic satisfaction. Hell, I don't even mind representing the common domestic man, if he's out there. And if so, do you have a brother? Just kidding, Honey. Anyway, I've had the idea of Taking the House by Storm in my head for a while now. Because ever since I can remember, anything I touch turns to shit. Whether it's a crafting project, a recipe or even something as simple as cleaning up a room.

If I had to take a stab at why this is, I could probably trace it back to the fact that I have a problem staying on task.

But I digress - see, it's that whole easily distracted thing. The real point of this site is to help other women in the same boat as me stop feeling inadequate because we're not Martha Stewart. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to emulate something I've seen on any number of self-help shows on any number of networks (you know the type: DIY, Food Network, TLC), only to have a full-fledged disaster - and subsequent feelings of failure - on my hands.

To me, these shows represent the domestic equivalent of the same impossible standards a Vogue or a Glamour sets for looks - there's no way you could ever compare to those beauty queens for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which is a little something called PhotoShop. It's the same with these shows. You don't have a staff of 20 behind the scenes helping you chop vegetables, building intricate organizational systems or attending to your year-round garden.

You're one person trying to do it all yourself, giving it your all and then feeling like a loser when it takes you an hour to prepare a recipe that should have taken 15 minutes. When you can spend a whole day cleaning your house and it looks worse than when you started. Or your carefully tended garden doesn't produce one stinking tomato.

So take heart, ladies. And you, too men, if you're out there - tho you generally don't seem to suffer from the same kinds of insecurities and low self-esteem us gals are so often plagued by. It's time to realize you're not alone. I'm here, fucking up everything I touch.


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