Let Me B

My list is long. Well, it would be if I put everything on it that I really am supposed to be getting done. I think I need to hire a Type A personal assistant who knows how to kick butt. My inner Type A is primarily a figment of my imagination, as in, "I imagine that I'll get to that very soon."

I am a classic Type B. After all, B is for Bernadette. B is also for Be and Brave and Barbecue! Ooo, I like that! A is for Action, Ambition, and Accountant. Let me just say that ambitious for a Type B is as foreign as spontaneous is for my Type A companions. I can only manage it under extreme conditions such as getting rid of head lice. (That is nightmare I do not wish to ever re-live and comes under the category of "home invasion." Mess with my family and you're dead meat. Think female Incredible Hulk minus the green face.) And, getting back to my original story, let me just say that if you made me an accountant, I would wither up and die.

I do not despise all "A" words, however. "Alas" comes in very handy. Such as, "Alas, I do not know what is for dinner...Alas, the weeds are taking over...Alas, I have frittered away another day by writing lots and doing little." But, hey, my bed is made! And the laundry's half done! Perhaps I should go write those on my list so that I can cross them off. 

And getting back to imagination, I find it a very handy tool. Over the years I have thought up many ways to trick myself into accomplishing things, or into doing as much as possible as quickly and painlessly as possible. I keep paper towels and cleaners in every sink cupboard in my house. That way if I decide one morning that the bathroom mirror looks a bit spotted and shabby I can easily grab my trusty bottle of Windex and a paper towel and spritz away the smudges. Then, since I hate wasting a paper towel, I will spray down a few other surfaces and buff them into a sparkle. And golly, since I have this wet towel I might as well wipe down the floor and pick up all the hair that I'm losing daily. (Ugh!) In less than 5 minutes the bathroom looks and smells amazing and all I did was clean the mirror! Disclaimer: Cleaning the tub or the toilet bowl requires a totally different strategy. Most days I go for fresh and shiny with neatly folded towels. 

I read somewhere that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am taking it on faith, then, that there is a purpose for a Type B like me. Why we are usually paired up with a Type A spouse was once a very exasperating mystery to me and to my husband. Now it has mellowed to humor on both sides and a somewhat effectively functioning AB couple. His side of the closet is still as neat as a pin, but I don't feel so guilty about that anymore since I tidy mine up every 6 months or so. I do occasionally manage to act responsibly and live by my list, and he occasionally chucks his and decides to go out for coffee instead. We were born with an innate "bent" but have been willing to bend. Who are we to argue with His plan.

But now, despite my attempt at justifying my lack of productivity, I must exit my comfy couch and my reverie. I no longer hear the dryer running. Random? Perhaps. But it takes far less time to grab freshly tumbled clothes and lay them out on top of the dryer than to re-tumble them, or EEK! iron them. I am lazy. I like saving time. Thus I like folding laundry. There's a math equation or an "if, then" geometry proof somewhere in that string of statements, but that is for the Type As to figure out. For now I will submit to my trick of logic and go finish the laundry.