Boiling Point

There comes a point when enough is enough. It has come.

I have been feeling this coming for some time now...creeping up in the back of my mind, whispering in my ear, flying around my head like a gnat. Until now, I have managed to keep it at bay, even ignoring or denying it. But the truth is that I can no longer hold it back. The alarms are sounding, the red lights are flashing, andI'm about to blow! What am I referring to??? Clutter, paperwork, clothes I don't fit into, everything. I can't stand it. I feel like the walls are closing in on me and I am ready to start spinning through the house like the Tazmanian Devil, throwing everything in sight into the trash bins.

This is an overwhelming task though. You see, for everything that I need to put away, something else has to be cleaned up or put away first. Take for instance this case: I have several boxes of things that belonged to me as a child temporarily stored in my garage. (Temporarily as in, it's been over a year now). These need to be sorted and either put into the crawl space or into Lacey's room. Ah, but the crawl space must first be organized and cleaned out. What's that you say? Some of it needs to go in the garage? Uh-huh, and where exactly?

So you can see that this is not something that can be in any way accomplished with a baby underfoot. No way. So now that Matt is finally off the long streak of work and is home this weekend, I am taking advantage. He has been instructed to leave with the baby and go wherever, as long as it's not at home. I can not possibly concentrate on the task at hand with either of them there. The only pitfall is if I find a gigantic spider in the crawl space. I shudder at the thought. But it is my goal, at the very least, to go through all those toys and let the little angel have a chance to play with them before she turns 18.