The Hudson & Rex Effect (aka: “Why am I like this?”)

by artemisnorth | Mar 5, 2026 | Maker Life / Fiberarts | 0 comments

Featured image of the Makers’ Community lobby with a retro TV showing a man and dog on screen

There comes a point in far too many small business websites where the whole thing stops feeling like a useful tool and starts feeling like the kitchen junk drawer.

You know the one.

You open it looking for one thing and suddenly you’re elbow-deep in dead batteries, mystery keys, elastic bands, expired coupons, two pens that do not work, and a screwdriver that apparently lives there now for reasons no one can explain.

That is a lot of small business websites.

And if your website feels weirdly hard to update, manage, or trust, the problem may not be you. It may be that the site has become cluttered, outdated, or structurally messy over time.

You go in to fix one tiny thing. Change a sentence. Swap a button. Update a date. Add a link. Nothing dramatic.

Cute.

Forty minutes later, you’re wandering through old pages, duplicate drafts, weird settings, mystery plugins, and images named things like final-final-2-reallyfinal.jpg, wondering which version of past-you made these choices and why she was allowed near the controls.

That is not a discipline problem.

That is a structure problem.

When your website starts fighting back

A lot of people assume website stress means they are disorganized, bad at tech, behind on everything, or somehow failing at adulthood.

Usually, that is not what is going on.

Usually what happened is much less dramatic and much more annoying.

The website grew.
The business changed.
Offers shifted.
A new page got added.
A tool got bolted on.
Something broke.
Something got patched.
Something got ignored because you were busy and it seemed fine enough at the time.

Which, to be fair, is how a lot of business decisions get made when you are one person trying to do seventeen jobs and occasionally eat lunch.

So no, this does not mean you ruined your website.

It usually means the site has been collecting layers.

And layers create friction.

Not all at once. Just steadily. Quietly. Like digital plaque.

What a messy small business website actually looks like

The sneaky part is that it does not always look terrible from the outside.

Sometimes the homepage still looks perfectly decent. Sometimes the branding is nice. Sometimes the site even works well enough that nobody is actively screaming.

The trouble usually shows up behind the scenes.

It looks like this:

too many old pages hanging around because you are afraid to delete the wrong one
blog categories that made sense once and now mostly raise questions
plugins you no longer use but do not quite trust yourself to remove
settings buried in seventeen different places for no good reason
duplicate images and mystery files breeding quietly in the media library
pages you avoid editing because every time you touch them, something gets weird
a backend that turns every “quick update” into a whole production

And here is the part that matters:

When your website is hard for you to manage, it often becomes harder for visitors to use too.

Not always in a big flashing-error way.

Sometimes it shows up as clutter, confusion, inconsistency, dead ends, outdated information, missing context, or just that faint but unmistakable feeling of, “Hm. Something here is a little janky.”

People may not know exactly what is off.

They just feel the drag.

The hidden cost of website clutter

A website junk drawer does not just waste time. It eats momentum.

Every small update starts to feel mildly cursed. You put things off, avoid publishing, and start dreading tasks that should be simple.

That is the real cost.

Not just the mess itself, but the mental drag of a tool that quietly trains you to avoid using it.

That is how a business website turns into background stress.

It is the same kind of low-grade friction that shows up in other parts of running a business too. Small things are not always small when they keep draining time, attention, and energy. You can explore more of that in the Business & Workflow section of the site.

Why simple website cleanups turn into bigger jobs

Sometimes you think you are doing a quick little website tidy.

Delete a few things. Clean up a page or two. Be responsible. Feel accomplished.

Adorable.

Because once you start pulling at the threads, you often realize the clutter was not the whole problem.

The clutter was just sitting on top of bigger structural issues.

Old content overlaps with current offers.
Page hierarchy stopped making sense somewhere around three pivots ago.
Images are missing proper names or alt text.
SEO details were never actually finished.
Accessibility got patchy.
Navigation evolved by accident instead of on purpose.

So what looked like a bit of housekeeping turns into a real audit.

Annoying? Yes.

Useful? Also yes.

Because now you are finally seeing what the website has been trying to tell you with all its weird little acts of resistance.

I wrote about that kind of domino effect more directly in How a Website Cleanup Turned Into an SEO and Accessibility Audit.

Signs your website needs a cleanup

Here are a few.

Small edits take way too long

You should not need a snack, a pep talk, and a support ferret to update one section of a page.

You are never fully sure what is live

If you have to squint at your own website like a suspicious Victorian aunt, something is off.

You keep finding outdated pages or half-finished bits

That usually means the site has grown without a clean structure underneath it.

You avoid touching parts of the site

Not because you are lazy. Because you do not trust what will happen if you breathe on them.

The backend feels heavier than it should

Too many decisions. Too many steps. Too many places for things to hide and wait for you like little goblins.

If several of these sound familiar, you do not have a motivation problem.

You have a website friction problem.

What to do first

You do not need to fix the whole thing in one dramatic burst of digital righteousness.

Please do not do that to yourself.

Start smaller.

1. Figure out what actually matters now

What pages, offers, and content are still relevant to the business you have today?

Not three rebrands ago. Not two pivots ago. Not that lovely idea you had in a fit of optimism and never fully used.

Now.

2. Identify the obvious clutter

Old pages. Duplicate drafts. Unused images. Abandoned ideas. Expired announcements. Offers you do not even want anymore.

You do not have to delete everything immediately. This is not a purge montage.

But you do need to know what is taking up space.

3. Map the core structure

What are your main pages?
What do visitors most need to find?
What do you most need to update regularly?

That gives you a practical picture of what the site is actually supposed to support.

4. Notice where you feel resistance

Which tasks always feel more annoying than they should?

That is usually where the mess is costing you the most.

Pay attention to the spots that make you sigh before you even click. Your nervous system knows things.

5. Stop treating every website problem like a personal flaw

A messy website is usually what happens when a real business grows in real time and nobody gets around to rebuilding the plumbing because they are busy trying to run the actual business.

That is not a character defect.

That is maintenance catching up with you in ugly shoes.

Your website is supposed to support the business

Not haunt it.

Not confuse you.

Not punish you for trying to update a sentence.

A website does not need to be perfect. It does not need to be massive. It does not need a thousand bells, whistles, and dashboard goblins demanding snacks.

It does need to be usable.

Clear enough that visitors can find what they need.
Clean enough that you can manage it without losing the will to live.
Structured enough that it supports the business instead of creating more drag around it.

That is the real goal.

Not perfection.

Usability.

Because a business website should feel like a tool.

Not an escape room.

Final thought

If your website feels harder to manage than it should, the answer is probably not to shame yourself into “being better at it.”

The answer is to look at the structure, the clutter, the outdated bits, and the friction points, and start untangling what is actually going on.

Because your website should not feel like a drawer full of mystery wires, expired coupons, and decisions made by a sleep-deprived raccoon.

It should feel like something you can use without needing emotional backup.

And honestly, that is not asking too much.

If your website feels harder to update, manage, or trust than it should, that is exactly the kind of mess I help untangle in TechAlchemy. Get in touch here and we’ll look at what is clutter, what is broken, and what to fix first.

I just watched the most recent episode of Hudson & Rex. And yes, I spent the entire episode thinking, I should be doing something.

It is hilarious because apparently I’m now the kind of person who can’t even enjoy a TV show without running a background process called Guilt.exe.

But listen. I love that show. It’s cozy. It’s predictable. There’s a dog who is always more competent than the humans. What’s not to like? This episode though... whew. It gave me the same vibe as watching Sharknado. Not in a “wow, cinema” way. In a “this is objectively ridiculous but I cannot stop watching” way. It was the long, extra long, Monty Pythonesque wave goodbye.

You know the one.

Okay. That’s finally over. Now get to work.

And then my brain immediately goes: Cool. Great. Love that. But get to work on WHAT?

The To-Do List That Eats Your Soul

On the surface, I’m a responsible adult person who has normal adult tasks like cleaning the kitchen and doing laundry. I also have a website I started revamping that I accidentally turned into a digital crime scene.

And then, simmering in the back of my brain like a witchy little cauldron, there’s The Idea.

Not a cute little “maybe someday” idea. A fantastic, feral, bursting out of my ribs idea. A Ripple for the Global Business Plaza EXPO coming up in June. It started with a first person POV kayaking video on Pixabay and it hit that sweet spot where visuals become feelings and feelings become a whole dang project.

Now it is scenes and layers and vibes. I am out here casually building a Murder Mystery Adventure like that’s a normal Tuesday activity. The worst part is that learning these tools has inspired an even cooler, even more fun secret idea for my booth at the EXPO.

So I’m back to the question: WTF first?

Logic vs. The Neurospicy Brain

If I go by logic, I do the laundry first. We hang it on racks to dry, which takes a while but honestly is worth it. It’s like saving money while also turning my living space into a textile installation titled “This Is Fine.”

Then clean the kitchen. Except I hate this chore. Like... spiritually.

Kitchen cleaning isn’t a task. It’s a vibe assassin. It steals my will to create and replaces it with a desire to stare out the window and disappear into the forest. But I need it done before PYPT. I need the headspace. And I need my website to stop looking like I tossed it down the stairs and called it a redesign.

This is what it’s like inside the mind of a neurospicy creative. Are we all living in a constant state of “I’m overwhelmed but also aggressively inspired”?

The Moment Where I Try to Be Wise

At some point, I stop pacing mentally and try to “define my energy scale.” Which sounds reasonable, except my energy scale is basically:

0: Can’t move.
3: Can move but resentful.
7: Can do one thing before I need a snack and a dramatic lie-down.
10: Unstoppable for 47 minutes, then suddenly asleep like a fainting goat.

So I tell myself: Do what I must. Energy scale doesn’t matter.

Laundry is the keystone. It takes time to dry. It is the thing that quietly becomes a bigger problem if I ignore it. It’s the task that future me will either thank me for or curse me over while hunting for clean underwear like it’s an escape room.

The Dice Moment

Once you’ve picked the “must,” the next question is: Do you just roll the dice at this point? Because after laundry, there’s still the kitchen, the website chaos, and The Idea knocking on the inside of my skull like: Hello?? You’re going to explode if you don’t start me soon??

Creative ideas don’t politely wait in line. They pace. They shout. They get louder the longer you ignore them. For neurospicy brains, inspiration isn’t just fun. It’s pressure. It’s momentum.

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My Current Best Method

Here is what I’m trying lately:

Do the time-sensitive “must” first. Laundry is time sensitive because drying takes forever.
Do the “energy leak” second. The kitchen is an energy leak. I don’t like it, but it drains me just knowing it exists.
Give the creative idea a controlled bite. Not a full feast. A bite. A starter. If I don’t touch it at all, my brain keeps screaming. If I touch it too much, I disappear for six hours and forget I have a body.

So the plan is: Start laundry. While it’s running, do a short kitchen reset. Not “perfect,” just “less insulting.” Then: 20 minutes on the Murder Mystery Ripple idea as a reward and a pressure release. Then: PYPT with a clearer head.

Is that magical executive function? No. Is it better than spiraling in the middle of my living room whispering “what first” like a ghost? Yes.

Maybe the real method is this: Pick one must, pick one leak, and pick one spark. Stop asking your brain to be a machine. Because it’s not. It’s a creative studio full of half finished projects, brilliant visions, and one extremely dramatic assistant (me) who just needs to start the washer.

Until next time friends...

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Untangling tech for the creative brain.

I help neurodivergent makers and anyone dealing with tech-stack or workflow chaos clear digital clutter and build practical systems that actually work. 1:1 consulting and community co-working to help you get unstuck and finish what matters.