Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Hoard Almosts Rhymes with Fjord
It's the end of summer... I have lost control of everybody. I have surrendered. So I marched on over to my storage unit to reorganize. I had to get a piece of something. Something that was quiet and didn't say mom mom mom mom mom while constantly darting around. Midget Fort Makers. Giant Mess Makers. Award winning little people that excel in destruction.
So...off I went...where I lined up all of my little soldiers row by row and stack by stack...
...and... when I couldn't quite get everything put back in and ALMOST asked the storage guy for a bigger unit... I stopped. I thought. I listened to the silence...telling me...I must have a sale...because I have a problem. I have way too much shit.
I don't think that I am a natural born hoarder. It is a learned behavior. My rationale has been that we will have a bigger house. A house with a proper master bath, a master closet, a real entry, a dining room that isn't just a hallway, a kitchen that works for a gathering of friends and not just a production zone, a family room that isn't a shoebox. You know. A house with this and that and that and this. Well, life isn't so bad. You don't get everything. My neighborhood is the best...prone to 5:00 cocktails and late night (should probably be in bed) cocktails, kids galore, doctors and lawyers aplenty (emergencies crop up constantly) and sidewalks.
So...the moral of the story is...the grass is always greener and where there is really green grass there might be a really big house filled with a LOT of really great things but at the end of the day what do they have? A neighborhood filled with cocktails and friends and kids and sun and sidewalks and tree swings...
and blackberries and socialized medicine and free legal advice...? I don't think so. I'll keep my brown grass and my cocktails and my neighbors and my blackberries...
Thank you hood. I am 100% positively going to probably maybe sell all of my pretty little things saved for a rainy day in a town where it rains 137 days/year and get back to living this life. Today. Here. In my perfectly fine but teeny bit too small house. In. My. Hood.
Posted by Jen West Design at 5:05 PM