Showing posts with label Executive Function. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Executive Function. Show all posts

Saturday, 20 May 2017

Messy Nessy

Hello again! I have finally madeit back to another Friday Reflections link up. I'm sure you've been beside yourselves missing me. What's that? You hadn't noticed I was gone? How rude. Sniff. Oh well, I'm back, anyway. I did expect trumpets, streamers and exclamations of joy to mark this momentous occasion. But you're right. A quiet and graceful return to the fold is much classier. Though I can't help thinkng, couldn't you even manage just ONE balloon? Some people.

Enough about that. Let's get on with it.

The prompt I have chosen is this:

 Are you messy or neat? What about your family/people you share your house with? Does it work well?

Here goes...

Have you ever looked around at your surroundings, the place you call home, your sanctuary, your precious abode and beamed with satisfaction and pride? Have you surveyed the gleaming surfaces and pristine rooms while a surge of sheer euphoria engulfed you at the blissful state of Konmari perfection you have created? Yes?

HMPH. Well, good for you. I'm sorry to say, I'm not sure we'd get along. For I am your worst nightmare.

There is no doubt about it. I'm a messy little minx.You can call me Messy Nessy if you want. I've been called worse things.

It's not that I don't TRY. Honestly, I do. No, TRULY!  Sometimes I try SO HARD. And the harder I try the more ridiculous it is.

It's a funny thing about me. Like a lot of things. I seem to be all or nothing. Either I am going batshit crazy and cleaning ALL THE THINGS like a possessed person, or I literally have less than zero interest. It's like trying to motivate myself to dress in a chicken suit and run down the street singing bah bah black  sheep at the tops of my lungs. The idea is absurd, repugnant and I just CAN'T EVEN.

Luckily, Mickey Blue Eyes and I are similar. We're both fairly messy and disorganised. Although, to be fair, he does do all the clothes washing. He washes and hangs it out it, while I have the unenviable task of folding and putting away. This seems to work for us. And we take turns doing the dishes by hand because we don't have a dishwasher. I know! What are we like?

Meanwhile, the boys are fairly typical of most teens/kids. Cleaning is not high on their list of priorities, but they will do it if we insist upon it. The only thing is, I have to admit I struggle to teach them to be something that I am not. How do you teach another person to be neat, tidy and well organised if you're not any of those things yourself? It's a tough one for me.

As I've mentioned before, I struggle with executive functioning due to my ASD. I have this weird dichotomy where my actual preference is for order and cleanliness but I am ABSOLUTELY HOPELESS at being the person who can create it. It's super frustrating and depressing at times. Sigh.

I've tried various techniques. Lists, online sites or apps such as Evernote and Todoist and read a tonne of books. I even attended a de-cluttering workshop which I talked about here.

For the record, I'm not a hoarder. My house doesn't resemble something off an episode of Hoarders: Buried Alive (books don't count!). Tables and lounges can be used for what they are intended for and there is no climbing over things. However, it's just not as neat and tidy as I would like. Sigh.

 After attending the above workshop, I did come to the conclusion that I'm doing reasonably okay for someone who has ASD (officially diagnosed) and ADD (self-diagnosed). So I guess I've kinda sorta made my peace with it. But not really. It does upset me. I often wish I was one of those organised, meticulous people who have towels that match and spotless white furniture and fittings.

It's just not going to happen. Sorry, Mickey Blue Eyes! Sorry, Mum!

On the plus side, there is indisputable evidence that messy people are, in fact, geniuses.
Articles on the internet are concrete evidence, right?As Einstein was alleged to have stated: If a cluttered desk a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?

So there you have it. I'm a messy monster and not a neat freak. Messy Nessy. But I'm also a GENIUS. Though why a genius can't figure out stuff that is basically menial tasks is curious...

HMPH. Details!

Right, I'm off to be all genius-like and, erm...make mess. Or something.

What about you?

Are you a genius/messy monster or a neat freak? 

Monday, 30 January 2017

My Thoughts About Routines.

Hello lovelies! I'm back again. The school term has started in my part of the world. And I was ready. Not sure that my boys were, but they'll survive. 

I now have two high school boys, in year ten and seven, and one grade three boy. I am not allowed to post any photos of them, so you'll have to imagine how handsome they are.  That's my totally unbiased opinion!

It's a little bit dispiriting when you see all the other special parents proudly posting their back to school snaps. But I really don't like having my photo taken either, so I kind of get it. 

Anyway, this back to school thing means that I'm supposed to get back into a routine. 


Here's the thing. I am really bad at them. It's another one of those curious Aspie dichotomies: I crave order and routine but I am rather inept and ineffectual at being the person who's supposed to be in charge of creating it. Sigh. 

I looked at Facey this morning and the first thing I saw was this article. It really resonated with me. Especially this part:

  1. Lack of executive planning skills. Executive functioning describes the skills we use to organize and plan our lives. They allow typical adults to plan schedules in advance, notice that the shampoo is running low, or create and follow a timeline in order to complete a long term project. 
  1. Most people with high functioning autism have compromised executive functioning skills, making it very tough to plan and manage a household, cope with minor schedule changes at school or at work, and so forth.

Story of my life.  

Honestly, the start of the school of the school year fills me with equal parts anticipation and trepidation.  In one way I'm glad to end the holidays, but I'm also on edge with the persistent feeling that I can't keep on top of everything that needs to be remembered and done. I always feel like I'm letting my boys down because I am not a typical multi-tasking, briskly efficient mum. 

It's a classic case of 'the blind leading the blind'. I don't know how to teach my boys to be organised because I have no idea myself.  I have calendars, diaries, lists etc and I still struggle. I am trying very hard to accept myself and work with myself instead of against myself, but being ad hoc and disorganised doesn't seem to be a very useful thing in life. Weird. 

Most of the advice out there about becoming organised or establishing routines seems to (mostly) come from naturally organised, neuro-typical type people.  I need to find the bits that work for me and discard the rest. It's all easier said than done! 

In other related news, I've been attempting to have a routine of writing 'morning pages'.  This is a process introduced by author Julia Cameron. The idea is that you write three pages each morning. You don't think about it too much, just write whatever's on your mind. A kind of a free writing, stream of consciousness type thing.

I haven't been totally successful. It's been on again off again. According to Cameron's book The Artist's Way,  this process is meant to unlock your creativity. All I seem to unlock is yet more waffling, discursive drivel. Dammit.  However, it is quite soothing to sit and write the old-fashioned way with pen and paper. Remember those? 

But anyway, whenever I get in the doldrums about all of the above I just repeat this word: 


Panglossian. Panglossian. Panglossian.  PANGLOSSIAN! 

No, I haven't suddenly gone stark raving mad (that happened AGES ago), I'm just reminding myself of my word(s) for the year. (Look it up, it's an awesome word!) 

Besides, there was another article I read somewhere on the internet about personality traits and happiness (I can't remember which website it was to reference it... See?) and supposedly being orderly in no way correlates with happiness. Winning! 

Now I'm just going to pretend I'm organised and go and write a to-do list. And I'll definitely write the word panglossian down a few times as well. 

And before you know it, it will be school pick up time again! Later! 

What are you like with routines? 

Monday, 27 June 2016

One thing I wish I did differently

There was a time when I wished I did absolutely everything differently. Every single personality trait I have, I wished was the opposite.

Everything I wished was different

I'm quiet - I wished I was... not loud exactly, but bubbly and articulate.
I'm an introvert - I wished I was an extrovert. 
I'm shy- I wished I was outgoing, fearless and confident.
I'm scatter-brained and disorganised - I wished I was focused and efficient.
I'm a drifter and daydreamer - I wished I was driven and disciplined.
I'm nonathletic and uncoordinated - I wished I was sporty. 
I'm a night owl - I wished I was a morning person.

Blah blah blah.

Luckily, I don't have any gender confusion. I don't wish I was a man. Except for rare moments in grotty public toilets when the ability to be able to pee standing up would be an asset. But I digress.

Have I come to terms with all of the above?

I would like to be able to say that I've triumphed over all of the above and am blissfully happy and contented with my quiet, scatter-brained, nonathletic, night-owl self. But I can't. Well, to be honest, being quiet and introverted doesn't bother me as much as it used to, (although it often continues to bother others). However, I still find myself wishing I was much more organised, driven and disciplined. 

I guess it's because I'd like to be able to have something to point to in self-defence. People may like to point out that I'm quiet, but then I'd like to be able say "Well yes, I am, but on the other hand I'm really efficient and organised."

Um, no. No, I'm not. And it kind of irks me, to be honest. I get all whiny and pouty and pissed off like a three year old being denied cake. Or a 45 year old. Details. Shut up.

 If I'm going to struggle in one area, why can't I have another that is a strength? Nope. Lucky me, I get to struggle with social skills and executive functioning.

Always be yourself

And to make matters worse, it's not like my Aspie brain decided to fixate on a really helpful special interest like say, math or, I dunno, gardening or something. My mind decides to fixate on Karen Carpenter. I can remember every little tiny detail I've read or heard about her career and life both good and bad, yet I can't remember where I put my glasses five minutes ago or which school notes are due or what day it is. It's probably Monday if I've posted this. Is it Monday?

The only thing this (my Karen Carpenter obsession) is useful for is time-wasting and making people look at you like you have two heads. Winning! 

That's why expressions like 'be yourself' and 'feeling comfortable in your own skin' annoy me. 

It seems like when advice like the former is doled out it really means: be yourself, but only if you're an outgoing, type A, driven extrovert. 

And I don't know if I'll ever be truly one hundred percent comfortable in my own skin at all times. Maybe accepting that I'm always going to be just a tiny bit awkward is as good as it gets. In this way perhaps I'll worry about it less. I can already see this working. I know I'm always the most quiet person in any given situation, but I can still show up and sit there with my resting bitch face on. It's all good. 

The ONE thing I wish I did differently

Of course I'm just over thinking. As usual. 

So I guess if I was going to pinpoint one thing that I wish I did differently it would be that. I wish I didn't over think about stuff. Especially all of the above. After all, people still genuinely like me the way I am. Some of them even love me and would lose a kidney for me if necessary. And they feel this way without me changing a thing. They like quiet, scatter-brained me, complete with a cake and Karen Carpenter obsession. Well, I'm sure Mickey Blue Eyes wishes I'd get over it at times, but I wish he'd get over his soccer obsession, so we're even. 

And some people will simply never like you even if you gave them a Ferrari, and that's OK. Being liked by everyone sounds exhausting to an introvert like me! 

I suppose I could try an experiment George Costanza style and do the opposite of every instinct I have for a day or two to see how it goes? But then I'd have to not eat cakies. Bugger that!

Yep, it's definitely time to stop over thinking. Now if only I could stop over thinking about over thinking....

I'll have to think about that...

Linking up for I Must Confess.

Linking up again for Friday Reflections.

What's the one thing you wish you did differently?

Tuesday, 14 June 2016

My whole life is a domestic disaster

A peculiar sensation has come over me. I wonder what it is? Something so unfamiliar I cannot define it. I have to think about it before it unfolds in my mind. Yes, that's it. I'm smug.

I ticked off a list. That is HUGE. For me. I'm scatterbrained.

It seems to be a curious dichotomy about me that I crave order and routine, but am thoroughly inept and incompetent at actually creating at. Weird. 

I needn't have been so smug. Predictably my foray into organisation didn't last. And even when I have ticked these lists there is no discernible evidence of activity in my surroundings. My home still looks haphazard and sloppy. Sigh. 

This week I've looked into various organisational apps including  FlyLady, Habitica. Evernote and Todoist.

I was determined that the time had come when I would finally morph into a Domestic Goddess. With a capital D and a capital G.

Or maybe not. But that's okay, because what I lack in housekeeping skills I more than make up for in poetry writing skills. Yep, I'm poetic GENIUS. 

Here's proof: 

I need to have a schedule, a rythym, a routine
Make my home a sanctuary, immaculate, pristine

After all, I hear you say, you don't have an office job
You've no excuse for being such a lackadaisical slob

But, I reply, my house is frightfully pokey and tiny!
I glower and pout, all whingey and whiney

Before you judge me, why don't you do the math?
Don't patronise me with your presumptuous wrath

Residents total five, but rooms only seven
Hardly anyone's idea of domestic heaven

We live here in CHAOS*, clutter, confusion
Where 'Better Homes & Gardens' is just an illusion

And yes, I really must confess, it does cause stress
To live in pandemonium, such a muddled-up mess

But it seems that I'm a freak without the neat part
I want to clean it up, but don't know where to start

It's simple, you say, you have to make a list
Then tick it off, forget your daily Facebook tryst

Dutifully I write it down, commence the first task
It's tedious, time-consuming, school hours fly by fast

When the day is done there seems to be no reward
I'm grumpy, dissatisfied and frankly terminally bored

Snap out of it, you say, don't get into a tizzy
A dedicated Domestic Goddess must always keep busy

With my tears of anguish I slowly wash the dishes
The suds go down the sink along with all my wishes

Wishes for a gleaming home, all shiny and new
Lots of lovely, pretty things, a dishwasher too

Look, you say, all you need is a trip to Ikea

This is as appealing to me as explosive diarrhoea

But there's no time to waste, I have to cook dinner
Now's my chance to prove that I'm a culinary winner!

When I look inside the fridge my expression turns wary
Judging from it's contents I expect the dinner Fairy

Tsk, tsk, you admonish, don't you understand?
You should always have this sorted, make a meal plan!

Then get your children involved, everyone must help!
My kitchen is as big as a postage-stamp, I holler and yelp 

Ignoring your disdain, I defiantly order take-away
Getting out of bed was my biggest mistake today

Sure, I could have put some soup on and left it to simmer
But the chance of it being  eaten? Not even a glimmer! 

I should have tried harder, worked longer and faster
It seems MY WHOLE LIFE is a domestic disaster! 

Before long it's time to go bed and admit defeat
So I can get up and do all again. Rinse. Repeat. 

It's something that is terribly difficult to explain
It's not my fault that I have a typical Aspie brain

I struggle with something called executive function
Forgetting absolutely everything expect to have my luncheon

Now I sit here still feeling dejected and forlorn
I want a clean house, but I'm constantly torn

Somehow I never achieve anything no matter how I slog
For now I say forget it, I'd much rather write this blog! 

You're welcome. 

*CHAOS = Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome

Side note: as I'm about to hit publish on this post, my house is actually surprisingly tidy (for me). So I've got about a half hour window for anyone to drop in right now. Oh wait. It's school pick up time. The boys will be home shortly. CHAOS again! Oh well, I tried! 

Linking up (late!) for I Must Confess

What is your biggest domestic disaster?

Thursday, 26 June 2014

What I Suck At

What do I suck at, you ask? Okay you didn't really ask, but I'm telling you anyway. Don't worry, I'll make it quick, even though I could write a thesis on this topic. 

At the top of the list I would have to put blogging. I never seem to get my act together for these linky things. Case in point: on Monday I finally got around to writing my I Must Confess post after dinner, only to somehow manage to accidentally delete it  before I posted it. Genius.  I can't remember a word of it but I’m sure it was BRILLIANT. I can say that since no one will ever know. Ahem...

What I really, really and truly suck at is being organised. In every conceivable area of life I am woefully and abysmally disorganised and forgetful.  The only things I remember are eating and the words to every Carpenters song. I can assure you that this is definitely not helpful in life. Well, eating is somewhat helpful in order to survive. Eating cakes the size of your head isn't. Not that I would ever do that. Especially when I can eat cakes twice the size of my head. I'm classy like that. 

The thing is, I got my diagnonsense  diagnosis of Ass Burgers  Asperger's a few years ago and that’s when I realised that I have significant impairment or issues with what is referred to as Executive Functioning.

According to Tony Attwood’s Complete Guide To Asperger’s Syndrome the psychological term executive function includes:

  • Organisational and planning abilities
  • Working memory
  • Inhibition and impulse control
  • Self-reflection and self-monitoring
  • Understanding complex or abstract concepts
  • Using new strategies

I may have burst into tears upon reading this section. My tears miraculously disappeared as I read on and discovered Tony Attwood’s absolutely brilliant solution to these issues.

He says: one solution to reduce problems associated with executive function is to have someone act as an ‘executive secretary’.

This is the Reader’s Digest condensed version but he then goes on to add:

I encourage a parent or teacher to take on this very important role of executive secretary. We hope that this will be a temporary appointment as the person with Asperger’s Syndrome achieves greater independence with organisational skills. However, the executive secretary mother may not be able to resign until her role is replaced with an executive secretary wife.

Upon reading this sheer brilliance my tears just evaporated.  Now I felt like killing someone. I was INFURIATED by this advice. What I would like to know is: where the FUCK is my executive secretary wife?

Oh wait. All I have to do is grow a cock, divorce Micky Blue  Eyes,citing irreconcilable cock differences, ask a well-organised woman to marry me and be my executive secretary. Easy peasy. Why didn't I think of that? Any takers out there, pending my sex-change?

No? How rude. Hmph. Oh well, I can always get a cheapie sex-change operation overseas and then place an add on E-Harmony:

Middle aged woman turned pretend man with a pretend cock seeks executive secretary wife because Tony Attwood says I need one. You will need to be extremely well-organised but clearly insane and have a striking resemblance to a pre-anorexic Karen Carpenter; she is the only woman I could possibly consider 'turning' for. 

Then I would just sit back and wait for the eager responses to come piling in. Done. 

Meanwhile, I am left not only cock-less and executive secretary -free, but I have conveniently backed myself into a corner where I am expected to be not only my own executive secretary, but also to my three boys who all would appear to need one as well. And I suck at it. Did I mention that? 

Other things I suck at:
  • Parking
  • Talking
  • Cooking
  • Sewing
  • Craft
  • Team sport
  • DIY/Decorating
  • Art
  • Dancing

And almost anything with an 'ing’ on the end of it. Except catastrophising. I’m brilliant at that. Gotta be gifted at something. Right, that’s me. I’m off to grow a cock. Cheerio. 

Linking up with Robomum for The Lounge

                                                     What do you suck at?

Monday, 24 June 2013

Bad Habits

Another Monday has rolled around , Mr 4 had his customary Monday Morning ‘headache’ otherwise known as Mondayitis,  I have another horrid Man Cold since all the males I live with can’t seem to treat their germs the same as the TV remote and NOT SHARE, and it’s time for another  round of confessing.  This week is all about channelling our inner Billy Fields and confessing all our bad habits. Anyone under 40  and/or not Australian is probably thinking Billy Who?
This dude, and this song.

Like Billy, I’m afraid I have far too many  shockingly bad habits.


I seem to be a ‘glass half empty’ kind of girl. I don’t know if this is related to being Aspie or just to being me. Micky Blue Eyes mentions his fervent desire to just take off to Darwin or just about anywhere, in fact and my train of thought goes something like “Oh shit, plane travel with 3 kids. NIGHTMARE.  Scorching heat.  NIGHTMARE.  NO WAY. FUCK THAT.” Versus: "Awesome. A chance to travel in Australia and spend time with my family."


I seem to live by the motto: Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow? This seems to worked out well considering that I’m now 42 years old and still have no idea what I want to do when I grow up.


I have the extremely helpful gift of constantly comparing myself with others and finding myself lacking.  This is not supremely useful in life. I don’t recommend it.


This is one trait where I’m totally going to use my Ass Burgers as an excuse. Because apparently we can be impaired in something called 'Executive Function' which, according to Prof Tony Atwood's Complete Guide to Asperger's Syndrome, is a psychological term which includes:
  • organisational and planning abilities
  • working memory
  • inhibition and impulse control
  • self-reflection and self-monitoring
  • time management and prioritising
  • understanding complex or abstract concepts
  • using new strategies
Also according to Wikipedia, I can also use it as an excuse for my inability to resist cake! See, I knew it wasn't my fault!  Which brings me to my next bad habit...
Over Eating
I eat a lot of cake. And chocolate. And bread. And…EVERYTHING.

Emotional Eating

I eat more than usual of all of the above when I’m sad or stressed.

More Eating

Then I just eat some more just for the sake of it.

Did I mention, eating?
Yep, you guessed it, more eating.

General Laziness

I would be completely and utterly shocked and appalled at my own monumental and breathtaking  laziness except that I CAN’T BE BOTHERED.  What I can be bothered doing, though is...

EATING! You know, just for something completely different. Then I get depressed that I’m fat, so I eat some more and get more depressed and more fat and so on…and basically one way or the other I just need to shut my mouth. Either shut it it and stop eating quite so much or shut it and stop whinging that I’m fat. Genius.
Quite a few of these habits fall into the area of ‘blogging’ habits as well as personal.  I’m a disorganised, lazy blogger who flies by the seat of my pants and pulls any ridiculous, tedious rubbish out of my arse at the last minute,  just like this crap. You’re welcome.

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

                               What are your bad habits?

Tuesday, 31 July 2012

I'm Not Spotless, I'm Clueless

Being a Boganville Housewife Extraordinaire supposedly means it is my job to keep the Bogan Box in a reasonable state of cleanliness and order. It's only a small house, as the word Box would suggest, so therefore you'd think it wouldn't be too difficult.

Wrong. I simply do not get housework.  Anybody who walks into my home could be forgiven for thinking that I am a lazy, feral sloth creature.  That all I do all day is sit on the computer posting boring as batshit blogs and Facebook updates.  And I would never do anything like that. Ahem. Mainly because I can't now. But that's not the point.  I do have one. I promise. I will get to it presently.

The truth is, I have tried so hard to be a Domestic Goddess. To de-clutter, organise and have everything gleaming and perfect.  Or, if not perfect, at least somewhat presentable. 
Inside the Bogan Box. This was a good day. Oh, shut up.

I have purchased all the gear. The mops, brooms, tubs of Gumption, bleach and Pledge Grab-Its.  I even purchased that awful smug book called Spotless. And the even smugger (is that a word?) Speed Cleaning, which promised I could have a spotlessly clean house in 15 minutes a day. Uh, yeah right.

 I thought I would finally find the secret answer and knowledge that everyone seems to have but me.  Apparently it's bi-carb and vinegar, according to that book.

Bi-carb and vinegar fix everything.  So I bought those too. But somehow, my house still isn't gleaming. Not even remotely. It smells really vinegary though. Sigh.

The problem is, I can't even logically work out how to go about all the tasks I need to do.  If I have say, ten things I know I need to do (it's more like 17 million on any given day, really, but I condensed it) I can't work out how to prioritise them in a completely rational, logical way as most people seem to.  I feel bewildered and over-whelmed before I even begin.

"Write a list. " Mick tells me.  I've tried that too. Lists and I don't get on.  I either forget the list, lose the list or have a lovely list of the things I failed to complete that day mocking me from the fridge door.

This picture does not accurately reflect the amount of washing
in our house, which would actually be enough to fill the Indian Ocean.
So I'll just plough in and start doing something, usually folding washing. We always have mountains of the stuff.  Something or someone ends up distracting me. It could be the phone ringing or Mick talking to me. Mainly it's the boys.  Or I'll just walk to another room to put the clothes away, become completely distracted by something that needs doing there and end up totally forgetting the piles of clothes back in the other room I still haven't put away.

This leads to Micky Blue Eyes finding the piles later, and becoming annoyed thinking that I deliberately left them there for him to put away.  I never do.  I just simply forget. The truth is I am just a very forgetful and easily distracted person, especially when it comes to housework.

On the surface it appears that I don't care about this. About the state of my home. That I am deliberately blase about cleanliness and order. Thoroughly relaxed and unconcerned. On the inside, however, this is not the case whatsoever and it actually causes me a great deal of consternation.  I've spent nights unable to sleep going over and over it. Truly. Feeling bad about myself because I don't seem to get something so seemingly simple. I mean, it's not Rocket Science is it?  These are routine, menial tasks.

To make matters worse, we never invite people over, simply because I am too ashamed.  The shame and guilt eat me alive some days.
It also appears that I am the furthest thing possible from a perfectionist.  Judging from the perpetual state of my home the idea is truly laughable and absurd, I realise. However, I struggle with the belief that I should be perfect.

Not only should I be a perfect Domestic Goddess with a gleaming home looking like something straight of a Home Beautiful magazine, but I should also be the perfect mother.  Able to cook exquisite meals which are promptly served at 6pm every night.  Have my boys into a strict routine.

 But even that's not quite enough. I think I should also be able to make time not just to get a bit of exercise, but to literally train almost to the degree of an Olympic Athlete. Oh, and since we are living in Boganville, if we wish to have any hope of making it to Boganville Heights, I really should be working outside the home and earning money. 

In addition to this, I feel I should really make time to be a creative genius with my writing.  A boring as batshit blog isn't good enough. I should have been able to have whipped up a best-selling novel, you know, by lunch time. Yesterday.

I think I see where the problem is.

I'm not a perfectionist. I'm a should-ist.  I think I should be perfect, and therefore because I fall so glaringly and pathetically short of my list of shoulds I constantly feel like a useless failure.

These feelings don't work for me.  There is no pay-off for me, in cleaning all day.  I can't seem to find any positive feeling of a job well done or pride in my home.  I just feel like I'm repeatedly failing at something that is supposedly easy or menial. So, the more I think about it, it actually makes sense that I  would eventually feel like giving up on it. It's not that I'm lazy. It's more like it just doesn't work for me, there's no pay-off, so I might as well be blowed and forget it and do something else that does work for me. Like writing this blog .Even if I feel like I should be doing something else.

After a diagnosis of Aspergers last year, I'm pretty sure it's time to let all the shoulds go.  Maybe there are some Aspergians out there who are thoroughly logical, clean and ordered. I am not one of them.

 One of the traits of Aspergers can be reduced Executive Function, which refers to a lot of the things I am talking about. Like prioritising tasks, working memory, switching attention between tasks and organisational and planning abilities. There is a lot more to it, but it's too dry and uninteresting to bang on about too much in this blog. The upshot of it is, as I heard author of The Complete Guide To Aspergers Syndrome, Prof Tony Attwood succinctly describe in an interview, a lot of us Aspies "Couldn't organise a piss-up in a Brewery."

 It's true. For me. I really can't.  And, I guess it just has to be okay. Sure, I don't want to fall into the trap of using my Aspergers as an excuse.  It doesn't mean that I can just throw my hands up in the air and say I give up, and we live in a feral pig-sty. Even though it seems like it on some days. It does mean that I accept that it won't be as perfect as I'd like. 

The fact that being an Aspie for me, means I crave order and routine in my environment and surroundings, while simultaneously being completely clueless about actually creating it for myself and my family, is just another one of those little tragic ironies of my life that I have to live with.

And the only other thing that I should do, is throw away that bloody Spotless book. See? I'm de-cluttering.

And then promptly stop using the word should.

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.