I Need Better Visual Aids

I thought I had made it clear to these guys that all the household chores had been scheduled on my super-nifty organizational wall calendar (thank you, Momma) for each day of the week, each week of the month, and each month of the year. And yes, I filled out every single day of the year. I have the household chores listed, family/friend birthdays listed, scheduled appointments that I know about, school holidays and grade reporting days, rotating kitchen duty, and bi-weekly house/yard projects planned out. It's all there. It's command central. It's hanging right at the entrance of the kitchen - a room I know for a fact that they will be entering several times a day - so it will be seen. I even gave a little presentation about it ... identifying how it was organized, the color coding, and how to find what you were supposed to be doing on any given day.

I think it was too much for them. They weren't ready to see Command Central in all its glory. They had these horrified looks on their faces.

"Geeze guys. Its just a calendar, for God's sake."

And my husband reached for it to flip through the pages while his face was frozen in horror, "Good Lord! She's filled out the ENTIRE YEAR?!"

And the step-son fell to the kitchen floor and flopped around like he was having a seizure.

Obviously these people just don't have the ability to appreciate the pursuit of perfection. That's all I've got to say. Well, actually, I have a lot more to say. Not only can they not appreciate my attempts to help them organize their lives, they don't even have the common courtesy to UTILIZE this valuable tool in their everyday lives.

"When should I take out the trash?", asks the boy who has taken the trash to the street every Tuesday night for the past 6 years. That's 52 trips to the street on a Tuesday night in a year. That's 312 total trips to the street with the trash since he has lived at this address. He's almost spent an entire YEAR carrying the trash to the street on Tuesday nights and he STILL can't remember when to do it. So I have written it down ... the chore for Tuesday ... TRASH. Go look at the calendar!

"Do you have plans for this weekend?", asks my husband who has no plans to follow my plans unless he has no other options. But I wrote down what I wanted them to accomplish during the weekends ... every other weekend so they wouldn't be overwhelmed ... this weekend it is WIPE BASEBOARDS. Go look at the calendar!

"When do I have kitchen duty?", asks the boy who has enjoyed a two-month vacation from washing dishes because my blood pressure couldn't take finding dirty dishes all over the kitchen because he was too lazy to do a decent job and really get them cleaned. Every time I reached for a plate, fork, pot, pan, spatula, glass, etc. ... it was DIRTY and GREASY and would have to be re-washed before I could use it. It got so bad that I just couldn't take it anymore and put him on kitchen restriction. He wasn't allowed in the kitchen at all; nor was he allowed to use anything for himself except paper plates, styrofoam cups, and plastic utensils. Of course, he really got what he wanted - he didn't have to do any dishes for two months. But I just couldn't take seeing it anymore and having to scold him about it all the freaking time and my rage level was increasing exponentially and my husband just didn't seem to understand why I was getting so upset until he saw me clutching a dirty butcher knife and stepped between the two of us before I carved his son into tiny pieces. So the boy didn't have to wash dishes for two months. Now he has to start doing it again. But he's not allowed to put the dishes away before I have inspected them first. So he'll wash them again and again and again until they are clean. It's up to him. Do it right the first time or stand there all night washing the dishes over and over and over ... dumbass.

I can't talk about that anymore. My blood pressure is going up.

Suffice to say, they have alternating kitchen duty three nights a week. And they each have a specific chore. The boy changes the doggie poop papers in the garage because he's the only person in the house without a sense of smell and the husband is supposed to dust things in high places because he is SIX FOOT FIVE and can easily reach stuff that most folks don't even notice. But I notice. And I want it dusted! Otherwise they are free to negotiate and bargain amongst themselves on who's going to do what as long as it all gets done on time. Sometimes when I am out of the room I hear them mumbling to each other as they trade off chores, auction off chores, and try to bribe each other into doing each other's chores. Keep in mind that we've only been on this schedule for a WEEK, for God's sake, and you'd THINK that they were working on a chain gain or something.

And in the midst of our week, they keep asking me what they are supposed to be doing. CAN YOU PEOPLE NOT LOOK AT THE FREAKING CALENDAR FOR GOD'S SAKE?! I mean ... SERIOUSLY ... READ THE CALENDAR ... RESPECT THE CALENDAR .. LIVE BY THE CALENDAR!

My mother gives me this fantastic calendar every year at Christmas. I look forward to sitting down at the table and filling it in with everything that has to be done. I always feel so much more organized, prepared, and comforted to know what is going to be happening.

The calendar is a valuable resource. But it might as well be a painting of dogs playing poker for all the notice it gets from the other two people in the house. I am going to have to tell my mother that next year she's going to have to ask my Daddy to go buy me a Playboy calendar. I bet if the calendar had pictures of naked women all over it, I wouldn't be able to pry either one of those dingleberries away from it with a crow bar!