A retrospective, in receipts

The problem with doing my taxes so early is that I'm not quite ready to face the cold hard truth about my year as reviewed through my expenditures.

Since I'm not really great at keeping my calendar/log/journal, my receipts are the only real marker for how I spent my time as well as my money. This Quicken thing is a killer. Categorizing is kind of my worst nightmare and I'm pretty sure I'm not even doing it right. I can't imagine what my retrospective would look like if I actually used this software to its fullest potential. Basically I think it is genius to be able to download all my transactions from various financial institutions so I'm not typing everything into a spreadsheet. I am aware that it is like buying a fancy computer and then just using Word. I know I should learn to really use Quicken. Learning about finances did move up to #2 on my list this year. I've also heard there is a 2010 version of Quicken for mac coming out soon. I do love new stuff. So perhaps this will be the year.

I do know how to run a report to get my category totals. So yes, I am awesome. I flirt with the button that says it will show me my finances in graphs and pie charts but I never actually do it. Which is weird because I love pie. Truth be told I am terribly frightened of seeing a giant pie that says "clothing - kl" with just a tiny sliver of important stuff like "retirement." Again, I am awesome.

The retrospective usually goes something like this:

"huh, did I ever wear that shirt?"
"what the heck did I buy there?"
"Oh, I love that dress, why don't I wear that more often?"
"Ok, enough hair products. That budget is getting cut this year...that reminds me I'm low on pomade."
"That's right, I haven't worn that because I never did find the right top for it. Keep looking."
"Yeah, I never could get out of the house in that."
"This sucks. I could be watching Grey's Anatomy."
"Why don't I sell some of this shit on ebay?"
"If I just did my shopping by deductible category, this would be so much easier."
"I really didn't go enough places this year to wear all this."
"Yes, that outfit only had one outing but I still think it is classic."
"No, really. What was I thinking?"
"Gosh these pugs cost a lot of money. Well, the bee costume was a necessity."
"Oh fun. I painted the apartment last year. I really should finish those shelves."
"Why haven't I collaged that table yet?"
"Holy crap on the craft supply hemorrhage! I cannot buy another thing until I use up every last thing I have."
"All in all I have very little to show for my year."

I really do need to keep a more lively journal because this shit is depressing.

A million little pieces...of paper

Today I was trapped in my bedroom while the maintenance man fixed the outlet that recently had flames coming out of it. As I sat there, I realized that all I could think about was "what does he think of my apartment?" I had gotten up two hours early just to make sure that I could finish cleaning it for him. Lacking the actual two weeks it would take me to really get rid of all my chaos, I strategically shoved it where I was pretty sure he wasn't going to look. However, who knows if there is some weird electrical panel (that I am completely unaware of) hidden behind the one door where all my craziness will fall out.

When I was younger I was rather messy. Make that extraordinarily messy. I think this is because I have an innate propensity to become a hoarder. I always had a real problem getting rid of anything. Mostly because I felt sorry for it. I truly felt that all my possessions had feelings and they would be really hurt if I discarded them. Not just stuffed animals and cute things either- everything. It was a burden really.

Organizing all my shit was a nightmare. Not just because there was so much of it, but because I would get so distracted with each item that it would take me 12 hours just to organize my sticker collection. Additionally, as soon as I "cleaned" my room, I couldn't remember where anything was which was colossally annoying to me because I could picture its original position perfectly.

I loved all my stuff. I really did. I liked having it and going through it. It really made me happy and I didn't understand the need to put it all away neatly. It was there ready for me and it seemed reasonable to just leave it wherever I wanted. Besides I had better things to do. As if writing really important love letters to Ricky Schroeder could wait. Please.

As I got older I realized that people judge you by that kind of thing. They associate you with being dirty or lazy or even a little crazy. Since I didn't want to be someone who never had anyone over to my house or (heaven forbid) a boy stopped by unexpectedly, I made it a point to curb it. I'm aware that it isn't an impressive party trick to reach into your very own heaping landfill and pull out the one thing someone asked for.

Living with someone helps me hold the hoarder mirror up to myself. It is a cold hard reality check when someone helps you move and they ask why they just carried two garbage bags of TV Guides up three flights of stairs. Turns out "because I haven't read them yet" isn't a compelling answer.

To this day I still struggle to wrangle it. I employ filing cabinets with folders, desktop boxes, a desk that closes up. I have containers that contain chaos so that I may give the appearance of calm organization. But I know the truth. I'm an Oprah episode waiting to happen.