Sunday, February 13, 2011

On Mental Blocks:

First, let me say that I have permission from my friend, Lady Jane. She finds her story funny.

We are dear, old, shopping friends and though we hardly ever see or talk to each other any longer, (Since I don’t drive now either.) We pick up the conversation just where we left off the next time we see each other.

Lady Jane is sweet, and a kind, loving person. Her home is sparkling clean. Dust doesn‘t dare land on her furniture or she is eliminating it.

But she has a disability. She can’t wash dishes until they are clean all the way round. Her husband has installed the best model dish washer he can afford in their home so he, and any guests, have clean dishes to eat off of. Lady Jane doesn’t use it, only he does. They have separate dishes and cabinets for them.

We have talked about this subject for decades. Jane only cleans the inside of her dishes and the working part of her flatware. The parts that she cleans are very clean. I’m not talking about walking them through the dish water and saying ‘done.’

Somewhere in her past she learned to do it that way and hasn’t gotten passed it. The handles of her spoons and cups are sticky and the grime on the outside of each glass, plate, cup or bowl sticks to the inside of the other when stacked to put away in her dish cabinet. I know, discussing!

Her pots and pans, and cooking utensils sparkle inside and out. She can and does clean them to within an inch of their lives. It is the table wear that she has a problem with.

I can’t eat at her house because of it. I’m a ‘make it clean all over or die’ dish washer. And knowing that there is a cabinet of what I feel is dirty dishes in that kitchen of hers makes me crazy.

What causes such mental blocks that some people can risk their health continuing to do things the same old way? Why can’t they break through and fix the problem?

I don’t get on her case about it. I’m fatter than a house myself. She can pick up a clean dish and eat off of it. I’m not so lucky.

I’m at 230 pounds and in that picture of me in that heading of mine I was 190. I was sewing on Friday to have anything to wear. I’ve out grown all my clothing. I used my hurt knee as an excuse to sit on my butt. And I gained that last ten pounds just this past week.

I’ve got to get pasts this mental block about exercising and loose some of this weight or I won’t be around to see my grandbaby grow up.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I think the trick is to find a way to make it enjoyable, or at least less stressful, on yourelf. Patricia and I both hate vaccum cleaners, so keeping my house clean with Miss Shedsalot had been tough--untile I found a rubber pet fur broom that works like a dream. You just need to figure out what type of exerciese you enjoy. For me, it's going on long walks with Miss P. Perhaps you could do short walks with Lady Long?