The other day (literally…we’re talking three days ago as of October 9, 2007), I looked around at my life.

It was 4 a.m..  A bird started singing outside and I’d just finished an editing project.  My stomach hurt from the stupid fast food we’d picked up ten hours before.  My head hurt from the profoundly stupid sleep schedule (or lack-of-sleep schedule) I was keeping.  The dust and clutter in the office was looking like it might be dangerous.

I wandered downstairs, and the dishes in the sink hissed at me, profoundly pissed off that I’d ignored them for four days while finishing my stuff for work.  The floors were covered with dog hair, the couch was in disarray, and I found a bill for a credit card (now one day overdue, resulting in a hefty fine) stuffed under a pile of DVDs to be returned.  I turned off the dryer for the night (it’s timing mechanism sticks), and glanced out at the yard that I’ve been meaning to do something with for two years and haven’t had the time to learn about.  All that was in the fridge were some leftover mashed potatoes from god knows how long ago and some cans of soda.

All I could think was, How did I get here?

I’m enamoured with the idea of the 1950’s housewife.  Dedicated to her family, well-groomed, with purpose and community.  Her priorities were clear, and I’d wager that my Fantasy Fifties Housewife never found a piece of cheese in her hair after a fourteen-hour computer marathon where all she really got done was one file that was late.

(For the record, yes.  I know it’s not the way it was.  No need to tell me.  The vintage housekeeping books I’ve picked up over the years make it sound like all was rosy and easy, but I know better.  Leave me to my fantasies.)

Something was in need of changing, and as is usually the case with these things, I figured it was probably me.  In my sleep-addled state, I came up with…

THE PLAN.

If you can truly be whatever you want to be in this world, as a woman and a citizen of the free world, then by god, I was going to be my fantasy.

Over the next 24 hours, I wrote tons of notes about things I wanted to change, and things I wanted to preserve.  About who I would be, ideally, if I could just break through this idea that I’m somehow killing off feminism with my desire to keep a home in a  way about which I and my husband could both be happy(ier).

There are problems to be fixed, things to be learned.  My home ec classes in school consisted entirely of learning sex education and how to make waffles, so they were no help.  I found that the books and blogs out there tend to not jibe with either my political or religious leanings, or they were overly complicated or too simplistic.  It became evident that I’d need to chart my own course in this.

So, I did.

Starting small and looking forward to bigger things, I’m planning on detailing here what I’m learning and recording the resources I find.

My First Goal Range:

• Get the house under control. (decluttering, cleaning)
•  Get myself under control. (quit smoking, stop working so hard, sleep regularly)
• Nurture my relationships a bit (the other two in the list will help immensely)

They’re general, because, let me tell you, my life?  Completely on overdrive right now.  I’ve neglected home and self and family so long that I’m ashamed of how bad things are spinning out of control.  ANY forward step is going to be huge.

In specific, a few of the activities I want to do are:

• make my home a welcoming place to be, through a combination of regular cleaning and getting things decorated (finally).  The house is an old one, and is in a pretty nasty state of disrepair in places, and needs everything from new carpet to a coat of paint inside, and some serious work outside.  I want my husband to come home and be able to relax, and to be able to entertain here.  We have space — I’ll do a post about this when I start this.
• fix my own medical issues (I’m petrified of doctors.), and make sure that this cleaning thing starts with me.  There are times, since I work from home, that I barely get out of my t-shirts and don’t bother to brush my hair.  I’m overweight for my personal comfort level, and I smoke too much.  I eat horribly, and don’t sleep.  All of this needs to be fixed.  And I need to have fertility testing, which scares the pants right offa me.
•  I’m crafty.  By trade, I’m an artist and writer.  You would think my home would reflect this, but it doesn’t.  I want a handmade home.

There will be more as time goes on.

Check back for updates and more specific lists.