This Rose is A Genetically Unmodified Clutter Bug! It's Not My Fault!

Oh, my – this is organisation month? Nobody asked me about that. In fact, when I read that my dear, talented fellow Roses had put up that note about organisation, I almost fell off my office chair laughing. Indeed, I would hav e fallen off if all the stacks of books, paper and clutter around me hadn't kept me upright.

My shelves are cluttered with self-help books about how to live an organised life. My office floor is cluttered with empty plastic boxes that were supposed to organise my clutter if by some chance it should decide to jump into said boxes itself. The rack under the coffee table has lots of magazines with interesting articles about how to declutter. One of my favourites says to take photos of all the articles that mean something to you but you no longer need. Ha! So tell me, Ms. SmartyPants, just where do I store all those photo albums? Huh?

You see, I'm about a million miles away from being a neat freak Actually, I think it's some kind of genetic thing – I simply did not inherit a cleaning gene. Or a directional gene, for that matter. . Oh, I do have my moments – every now and again I catch up on filing and clear out my various spaces – only to be submitted to comments such as: Oh, look – there's actually a floor in the kitchen! Or Did you know there's a desk in your office under all that paper? And similar stuff that my family actually thinks is humorous. It doesn't exactly inspire me to keep up the good work.

I am organised as far as my writing is concerned - I don't miss deadlines because of clutter, and my Novel Planner Notebooks are a joy to behold!

But the rest of my life - that's another story. Of course, there's always someone to blame. My better half leaves tools all over the kitchen and newspapers all over the family room. Yes, he cleans up – eventually. And it's not unusual for one or another of our offspring to drop by with 'a box' of stuff they need to store for a while. For 'box' read several large containers. For 'a while' read 'forever'. Even the cats leave their toys all over the rugs. 

See, the mess is always someone else's fault.

The sad thing is that I know life is better and easier without clutter. It's just that sometimes I'm so busy with work and writing and family and  cooking and life…well, you know what I mean. I just can't keep up. When we became empty nesters I really had high hopes that the tidy parts of the house – the parts kept for visitors to see – would stay fresh and clean and tidy.

Fat chance.

Speaking of fat, I note that some of the Roses are looking to lose weight this year. Frankly, I can't see why – they're all gorgeous. Still, I admit I could do to lose a pound or twenty. Maybe if I chase around, bending and picking things up, hoisting boxes to the Value Village thrift store, running the vacuum cleaner, all that abs firming polishing and dusting, maybe I could actually make a dent in that, ahem, extra poundage.

Or maybe I'll perch the laptop on the treadmill, using the pain and anguish of that experience to write a bestseller. That's known as killing two birds with one stone. Lose the fat and gain a fabulous advance.

Then I'll hire a cleaner.

Glenys O'Connell is the author of several romance and mystery novels, children's books, award winning plays, and non-fiction works on travel and mental health. And she wonders why she can't keep up with the housework? She shares her large and cluttered home with her long-suffering husband, assorted visiting offspring, several computers, various thirsty houseplants, two exceptionallylazy cats and a variety of dust bunnies.

Mission: Clean

By Christine DePetrillo

Let me start off by saying that I love to clean. I admit it. Some people have labeled me OCD, Type A, and anal retentive. I’ll confess to being all of those and much more. Maybe it’s a disease. I don’t know. What I do know is that you could eat off my kitchen floor any day of the week and I love that.

What motivates me to clean? Well, first of all, I loathe germs. I know they are lurking all over the place, just waiting to attack me, hoping for a weak spot in my immune system. They aren’t going to win. Oh, no. I slay them with my bleach sword. Mr. Clean (love me a bald dude) is my sidekick and we show no mercy. Maybe I can’t see you, Germ, but I’ll kill you anyway. That’s a promise.

Secondly, clutter is not acceptable. If I go into someone’s house that is what the owner calls “lived in,” you can pretty much guarantee I won’t come back. Not without my cleaning toolbox anyway. It is very possible to “live” without being a total slob. Even animals know not to make a mess of their dens. Sheesh. And don’t even think about offering me food if your house is less than pristine. Not if your countertops have half-eaten, unidentifiable items stuck to it. Shudder. No thanks.

Thirdly, I’m motivated to clean when I have the right music going. When the beats are pumping, I can turn my cleaning ritual into an entire dance routine/cardio workout. It might be club music that I’m shaking my booty to while I scrub the shower stall. Could be I’m slamming around to some alternative rock or heavy metal while creating perfectly parallel lines in the rug with the vacuum. I may also get a little exotic with belly dancing and some Indian music while dusting the bookshelves. I look pretty stupid I’m sure, but I’m crossing cleaning and exercising off my list at the same time. The only thing I love more than cleaning, folks, is crossing things off my To-Do List.    

So, you probably think I’m a nutcase, and that’s okay. Maybe I am. But I’m a clean nutcase. Super clean.

If you remember Death to Germs, Say No to Clutter, and Rock Out, Clean Up, your 2012 will be your tidiest year yet!

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A great way to start the new year is with a release day! Today, ABRA CADAVER, my dark paranormal romance from The Wild Rose Press, is available for download.

Here’s the blurb:

Holly Brimmer never expected to be brought back from the dead. After a fatal car crash, a mysterious stranger gives her a second chance at life—but it comes with a price. To stay alive she must pay it forward, accomplish an important deed, thus making her mark in the world. Until she does, her savior is bound to her. Now she has a backyard full of dead bodies and one unwanted houseguest.

Keane Malson kills bad guys to keep the innocent alive, but he’s still a monster. Cursed by a witch moments before an honorable death on the battlefield, he’s lived thousands of years, roaming from place to place with no end in sight. It’s a lonely life…until he meets Holly.

When a wanted man targets Holly, Keane will do anything to protect her, even if it’s the last thing he ever does.

An excerpt:

Slowly, Keane sat up and ran a hand through his hair. Holly was enchanted by the way the black strands fell back into place. Her fingers literally itched with the need to feel Keane’s hair against her own skin so she stuffed her hands underneath her legs.

Keane slid his legs off the bed and, holding onto the headboard, he stood. Holly edged off the bed as well and prepared to support him. He held out a hand as if to tell her to give him a minute. He took a few steps deeper into the room and turned around.

“Feel better?” Sweet Mary, he looked better. Damn perfect standing at his full height and rubbing his stomach with his hand.

“Much.” He came to stand in front of her. He was close enough for her to wrap her arms around him, but she didn’t. “Don’t let me do that again, okay? I felt human for a few moments drinking that beer, but it’s not worth the pain.”

“Guess you need tighter supervision.” A heat washed over Holly’s cheeks as she glanced up. His eyes were back to the brilliant sky blue, his skin flawlessly pale.

“Yes, Miss Brimmer. That’s exactly what I need.” He grinned, and Holly forgot the rules.

Visit here to download today! Also available at Amazon for your Kindle and at my website.

Happy New Year!

Christine