How Not to Just Fucking Sort It

Well, Just Fucking Sort It September is over. And it’s time to take stock of just how very sorted everything is now. My world should be as sorted as an immaculate filing system, an accountant’s underwear drawer, a tube of Smarties after it has been sorted into different colours and then eaten in just the right order. Whatever order that is. Blues last I think.

So this is what happened:

At the beginning of Just Fucking Sort It September it was September 1st. Good start I feel. It was a Saturday, again an auspicious day. It wasn’t raining, or not much anyway, well, not enough to make the shed roof leak.

There were things that needed sorting-
The leaking shed
My underwear drawer
The flowerbed
The thousand other flowerbeds that inhabit my garden
The garden
The cupboard under the stairs
All the other cupboards
The house
My relationship with the Beloved
My life

On September 1st this didn’t seem un-ambitious. On October 6th, which happens to be today, I realise that maybe I was just a tad over-optimistic.

This is what happened:

The shed is still leaking. I fixed the roof. But then it turned out that all the walls were leaking too. Which isn’t a problem as long as all rain in the next foreseeable future remains strictly vertical. Could happen. I will therefore classify this in ‘Just Fucking Sorted’

I have given a great deal of attention to the garden. Mostly by removing most of its contents including trees, shrubs, grass, children, lost items belonging to the Beloved, small unknowable grey things, and large knowable brown things. It is now not so much a garden as a wasteland that abuts the house. Again, fucking sorted.

I have also given a great deal of attention to the house. Mostly by removing most of its contents including the most of the cupboards, my underwear drawer, furniture, spiders’ webs, walls, doors, ceilings, lost items belonging to the Beloved, small unknowable grey things and large knowable brown things. The house now resembles not so much a house but a handy building site, which could attract attractive builders. Perhaps. So, fucking sorted.

The Lawyer removed herself to her bedroom. The physicist removed herself to Uni. The snotty cat removed himself to the after-life. The Beloved removed himself to swanky flat in Radyr to cavort with his new beloved therefore ameliorating the necessity to sort my relationship with him. Tick that one off my iGoogle Things To Do List.

So, really the only item that is still left outstanding at the end of Just Fucking Sort It September is my Life.

Buy hey, given how successful I’ve been sorting everything else out, surely a life can’t be that hard?