Why The Frogg Isn't Married, Reason #287

Time for a new installment of the popular series, Reasons Why I Am Still Single. Today's topic: domestic organization, inspired by my recent, abortive attempt at using the popular software program, Quicken, which everyone else praises to the skies and which I would like to tie to a stone and throw into the bottom of a lake.

This sudden outburst is the result of the fact that I decided I would do some organizing today, because I feel like my life is spinning just a little bit out of control. I have papers stacked in piles, and piles stacked on other piles, and everything is everywhere and I don't know where to start to get on top of it all.

So I went to Office Depot and bought some filing folders today. (I also bought some Pilot roller ball pens, because I have an addiction to writing implements. I know, it's very weird.)

Well, I got home, and began bravely to sort through the fray. I also tried to use Quicken. Both of these activities were, in some measure, terrible mistakes.

Generally I picture myself as a laid-back, mellow, easy-going sort of gal, who likes lazing around in the summer sun and keeping quietly to herself as she reads a good book or something. When I'm organizing, though, the picture changes and suddenly I'm like Vampira, baring fangs and hissing wildly at anyone who is stupid enough to come along and try to show me an easier or better or more efficient way of doing whatever it is that I'm trying to do. This is because I am dimly aware, in the recesses of my organizationally-challenged mind, that there MUST be better, more efficient, and easier ways of doing it, but I simply don't have the mental acuity to figure it out, and I hate it that I don't. My brain just isn't wired for compartmentalization. Everything in there is always jumbled around in a jostling heap! So it shouldn't surprise anyone that my desk is jumbled too.

Honestly, I feel sorry for anyone who has to be around me when I am in "organization mode," as I am at the moment, because I really become a horrible person, all snappish and short-tempered and mean. Nothing puts me in a worse mood than trying to untangle my financial records and reconcile bank statements and file all the random bits and pieces of paper that somehow purport to represent my life.

So what does all this have to do with being single? Well, I have this awful fear that men are on the lookout for three main things when it comes to finding a mate, and they are as follows, not necessarily in any particular order:

1) Someone who cooks well. (Um, no.)

2) Someone who will mother and nurture him. (Sigh.)

3) Someone who is highly organized and detail-oriented and can function as a PA for him at a moment's notice when needed. (If you don't know that this is not a very good description of yours truly, you have not been reading this post.)

I don't even have a best-of-three going for me here! Yikes.

I do wish I were more organized though (and culinary, and--well, not mothering exactly, but maybe nurturing). I wish that I was able to tally up clever lists of things to do, and when to do them, and then mark them off neatly with pretty check marks when they are done. I wish that I was able to remember to pay bills on time, instead of a week late (in spite of reminders that I put on calendars). I wish that I could keep my desk nice and neat, with everything tucked into a proper place. For that matter, I wish that I could find my desk.

Mostly, though, I wish I could find a man who likes being organized, and likes doing the organizing, AND doesn't care that I hate both. Since it is unlikely that such a breed of man should exist, I will wish for the next best thing.

I wish for a man rich enough to enable me to hire my own PA.