It's 5:30 am, I need to leave to get the truck soon, the big snake won't load and I 've been up all night bagging snakes and am unpacked. I stink. REALLY.
So, of course, I am blogging instead of packing. I need to settle my thoughts. I may end up paying two burly fire fighters to box my kitchen stuff-they don't care what they do as long as they get paid (I hope). Relax. I can't run willy nilly around throwing things in boxes panicking.
Chill.......
This isn't my vision of well packed, neatly labeled boxes all stacked and waiting to be moved. But it's more like real life I suppose. Shit scattered everywhere cause there is just never enough time to do what I want to and need to do. And ME, sitting on my ass in the middle of the shitstorm, writing about it.
My life isn't ever going to be neatly labeled boxes is it? I think those organizational people on the do it yourself shows are liars, just the way the models in the magazines are liars. REAL LIFE is messy, smelly, and definitely more curvacious. Oh, maybe not REAL LIFE...maybe MY LIFE. Maybe there isn't one real, proper way to do things.
Well, crap, I wish I could have figured that one out a long time ago-would have saved a fortune on psycho drugs. But maybe we don't figure that out until we bash into the wall of the perfect life vs. our own about 10 million times.
Yes-I am one with my clutter, I am at ease with my stink. This is my life people of the world, no Better Homes and Gardens layout OR clutterbusters ready to come in an cluck cluck and then fix me in 30 minutes. How did the Boss put it-"aint no wine from this blood baby....."
Oh crap now I have visions of a nice blue collar man singing-what a time to get hormonal.
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