I've made myself a chore schedule. As in, what you make for small children to get them to brush their teeth and make their beds.
To be fair (and very CLEAR), I have no trouble in the tooth brushing department. As several of you know, I love to floss, and any time that I have my toothbrush on hand and feel I need just a little scrubby dub in the mouth, I waste little time gettin' to the brushin' of those teefers.
But making my bed? I won't even say "not so much," because my bed-making activity score is not at all, save maybe five days a year.
That said, and, again, to be fair, the bed making is not that big of a deal in my mind. I live with me, myself, and a cat. He doesn't give a hairball if the bed's made or not. And grad students spend too little time in bed as is, why waste time on making the thing when doing so takes away from the precious minutes you could be snoozing in it? No brainer, I say.
But allll those other things--
dishes, vacuuming, tidying stuff that accumulates on countertops and tabletops, cleaning out the fridge--
that's where I really struggle.
So what does your average, living-on-her-own grad student do when faced with such lack of structure and natural adult behavior?
Well, your average person in the aforementioned population would get her act together and just start cleaning.
Or. She probably already does clean.
But did I ever claim to be average? Yah. Didn't think so.
So I made a chore chart.
If I had time and the funds, I would have made one with stickers. And symbols. But instead we have the grad school budget-friendly, black ballpoint ink on computer paper calendar. It's actually my calendar for (some of) my school deadlines too--ooh, multifaceted. Sophisticated.
No, Bailey. Sophisticated would be an already clean apartment.
Without a chore chart on the fridge.