I was forced to clean out my church bag this morning.  Remember when I cleaned out my purse and you couldn’t believe all the crap I managed to fit in there?  Well, my church bag is this full-size backpack that houses all the snacks,water bottles, books, papers, crayons, diapers, wipes, etc., crappedy crap crap CRAP that I haul with me to church every week and it makes my purse look like…something really empty.  Anyway, I had to empty it this morning because I knew that my keys were in there somewhere, so I turned it over and shook all the contents onto my living room floor.  I wasn’t ready to do that.  Yes, it definitely needed to be done, but I was not ready to do it, mentally or physically.  I just wanted to find my keys so badly, damn the consequences.

(Note to self:  Never ever EVER put your keys in the church bag again.  Ever.)

So now there’s a pile of debris about six feet high on my living room floor. Imagine the contents of my purse times twelve and covered in a thin film of Goldfish cracker dust.  I haven’t cleaned it up yet because, as I told you, I was not and am not prepared to tackle that job.  I did find my keys, though.  Which will come in handy tomorrow, when it’s Housekeepers Eve and you still can’t see the floor for all the clutter and I just get in the car and drive off and never come back.

I probably shouldn’t have announced those plans publicly.

Sugar Daddy recently replaced Princess Zurg’s bookcase with a desk and also built a shelf for her to put her great-gobs-o’-stuff on.  The problem is that the desk and shelf will not hold all of the great gobs o’ stuff that have been displaced by the removal of the bookcase.  My mission, should I choose to accept it–or not, like I really have a choice?–is to find a place to put all of that great-gobs-o’-stuff before Wednesday morning.  You like how I referenced Mission: Impossible because it IS impossible?  There’s no place to put all of that stuff.  That’s why it was crammed into a bookcase in the first place.

Do you know that we have boxes of stuff that was packed up after the fire that are still sitting unopened in our garage?  What’s in there?  Heck if I know.  I don’t remember, and I don’t care.  I had to go into the garage this morning to look for the box that housed my scrunched-up fitness ball because I’ve decided that I’m finally going to use my fitness ball, about fourteen months after I bought it.  Yeah, you scoff, but just wait.  Seriously, just wait.  I will use it eventually.  I have to use it because I worked so hard to re-inflate the #$*(# thing, and I’m not giving my husband an excuse to deflate it again.  But now I’m off-topic.  I went into the garage, and it was so depressing I almost wanted to set fire to my house again.

Not that I set it on fire the first time.  That was totally not my fault and not on purpose either.  So, ah…hey look at that over there!

It’s hard to simplify your life when you’re holding on to so much crap for psychological reasons that you don’t even know about.  I know I suffer from “I might need/want that someday” syndrome.  I know that most likely I won’t need or want any such thing, but for some reason I can’t…let…GO…of it.  Because I might need or want it someday.  Like the day after I throw it out.  I’m totally going to want/need it.  It’s happened!  Very rarely, but still.  It’s happened.  I thought, “I think I’m going to need that someday, but I haven’t wanted it for the last 10 years, so why would I want it ever?”  So I got rid of it and BAM, three days or three years later, I was thinking, “Dude, where did I put that thing I was never needing or wanting until right now?”  And I couldn’t find it.  And I eventually went out and bought a new one.  And then I remembered that I never really got rid of it in the first place because there’s the original staring me in the face again.  So yeah, never mind.  That story proved exactly nothing except that I’m addicted to owning stuff.

Is there a twelve-step program for people like me?  Packrats Anonymous?  I’m sure there is one, but I’m actually not as bad as a lot of other people I can think of, and I don’t want to go to a meeting with folks who are still figuring out how to throw out their third-grade spelling tests and their lucky soda pop bottle lid collections.  Maybe there’s another group, Packrats-Who-Think-They-Aren’t-Packrats Anonymous?  That would be the one for me.

Well, I’d better go rake some personal effects off the living room floor or strengthen my core muscles.  Whichever seems easier.

Still thinking…

P.S.  Okay, bouncing on this fitness ball is way so much funner than cleaning, it’s not even funny.  I don’t think it’s doing anything for my core, but I’m having a good time.  You should seriously get one of these if you haven’t already.  Only you should pay somebody else (not me) to blow it up for you because that part is the opposite of fun.  Sorry, can’t bounce and blog at the same time.  See ya, suckahs!

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