Brand new life

well. ..
Maybe my actual LIFE doesn't need to be replaced. But I just woke up with this restless frustration at all of this STUFF- stuff I actually WANT, but can't use or enjoy because of the jumble, stuff I thought I wanted and discovered that it was just the mirage of retail therapy, stuff with potential, stuff with potent nostalgia but no use.

And instead of spending my time with my stuff, or spending my time instituting some kind of order, or even spending my time fixing the cracking, blistering, peeling paint and sagging basement ceiling tiles, I go out and haunt stores.

True confessions, here. And my husband? He's an idea man, and he'd FAR rather be outside than in. Which is why we have a literal MOUND OF DIRT for our front bed. And we live on a corner. The parking strip is a magic fairy garden, hidden in a field of rye. Well. If it was rye, it would at least be a CROP. What it is, is some kind of razor grass that has insinuated itself among the irises and iceplants. I'll give him this, though, he keeps at these outdoor projects. It's just, well, the outside is as overwhelming as the inside.

I'm paralyzed. Maybe the best place for my retail dollars is with a professional organizer. Or even an amateur.

Liz?