A Start

It's not much. This little pile of tissue and ribbon. But it's a start. The beginning of lightening on a large scale. Of combing through everything - each and every thing - under this roof. Then deciding whether to keep it or send it to a new home. Consolidating like with like is the first step. Making decisions about the piles of sympathetic things is the next. Creating dedicated spaces to hold them is part of the process. (Oh how I long for an organized home! Sitting around giving my disheveled surroundings the evil eye isn't going to make them ship shape. I know because I've tried. It just doesn't work.) Matching the discards to people and organizations who will use them, or at least recycle them responsibly, is the biggest challenge so far. Well, the biggest challenge second only to beginning the process. Because I plan and plot and scheme and invent and ruminate and consider and revise constantly in my head, I tend to overlook the fact that I haven't actually accomplished anything in the physical world. Starting a project can trip me up, hold me back. But his one, the lightening, I have begun in earnest (once again after a long sideline) and am hopeful that the self-generating momentum will carry me along and over the terrible state of messiness and disorder, the usual "it gets worse before it gets better." It's hard to imagine it can get worse than the sty it already is, but it can. And it will. And I will try to keep my eye on the end result. The calm, tended, organized oasis that is my natural state of being. The state of being that has been denied for far too long.