In a perfect world, I would get up at 6:00 a.m., maybe even earlier. By 8:00 a.m. my blog post would be written, and if it was summer, I would be ready to pick berries. Then, there would be a flurry of jam making, with plenty of time to do some house cleaning, work on other writing projects, and make a wonderful dinner.

In a perfect world, my house would be as clean as my Franco mother’s house, so clean that if I won a session with a professional house cleaner, then that cleaner would wonder what in the world she should clean. (This actually happened to my mother.) Closets would be organized and clothes and linen would be sorted. The dishes in the hutches would get a regular cleaning, instead of a last-minute washing-up of only the items that are absolutely needed at an given time.

In a perfect world, my volunteer work at the food pantry and the library would blend seamlessly with my housework, cooking, and writing. Need someone to head a committee? No problem. I am your woman. Need someone to head the whole darned organization? Ditto!

In a perfect world I would be so organized that I would be the marvel of Winthrop. Lists, flow charts, and Staples would be my best friends. Filing systems would not flummox me, and anything involving packets or keeping track of checks would be child’s play.

In a perfect world, all the food we eat would either be organic or local. My food budget would be twice as big as it as now, and cost would not be a worry.

Oh, the things I could accomplish if I lived in a perfect world. But in reality, the above scenarios are nice fantasies with a grain of truth.

In the real world, I am an insomniac who seldom gets to sleep before midnight and often it’s more like 1:00 a.m. Getting up at 6:00 a.m. is out of the question. Because of this, my blog posts are seldom done until 11 a.m., and there is no berry picking in the morning. In fact, there is usually no berry picking at all. Somehow, with just one car and our busy schedules, there never seems to be time. And no berry picking means no homemade jam.

Then there is housework. As my mother once observed, “Laurie, your house is good enough.” And I knew just what she meant. I’d never win any prizes for cleanliness, but neither did it disgust my mother to be in my house. Fortunately, she did not poke around my closets, hutches, or drawers. Otherwise, she might have changed her assessment.

In the real world, I do volunteer at the food pantry, and I am a trustee at the library, but I will never agree to be the head of either the food pantry or the trustees. I just don’t have the temperament to do so.

Or the organization. Filing continues to baffle me, and it has taken me months to come up with a system to compile packets for the library expansion. As for flow charts, well, let’s just say that I’ve never made a flow chart.

Let’s face it: In the real world, I never do as much as I would like to do. It’s frustrating at times, but that’s the way it goes.

But here’s what I do accomplish: I keep the house and the yard reasonably clean. I make all our bread and muffins. I cook dinner almost every night. I do volunteer work at the food pantry and the library. I’m not organized, but I work hard, and when I say I’m going to do something, I do it. (Barring unforeseen circumstances, of course.) I write blog posts regularly and work on other writing projects.

I regularly ride my bike. I invite family and friends over for meals and celebrations. I buy as much local and organic food as our budget allows.

It’s a patched-together kind of life, and I expect many women (and men) have this same kind of life. They do as much as they can, knowing they will never be able to do as much as they want. Is it enough? Funny thing that in the end, it usually is. This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to improve and learn new skills. Of course we should. But there are only so many hours in the day, and we all have to pick and choose how we are going to fill those hours.

So let’s hear it for the real world and stop longing for the perfect life, which doesn’t exist and never will.