I made Ryan clean out his closet the other day because it scared me. It is a walk in closet that could not be walked in. I was too chicken to dig through the pile, afraid of what I might find: a litter of kittens, grilled cheese sandwiches, waffle irons ... who knew?
He did a great job and luckily there were no dead bodies of any sort. He piled everything he did not want / did not fit any more in the family room upstairs. So today I was up there itemizing stuff to donate.
Our family room upstairs is rarely used and is where most of my collection of toys that I bought in different countries live. I have a collection of Russian Nesting Dolls. Every now and then, I take them apart, now that we live in Houston and it is more humid then their home town of Moskvá, so that they won't permanently fuse.
He did a great job and luckily there were no dead bodies of any sort. He piled everything he did not want / did not fit any more in the family room upstairs. So today I was up there itemizing stuff to donate.
Our family room upstairs is rarely used and is where most of my collection of toys that I bought in different countries live. I have a collection of Russian Nesting Dolls. Every now and then, I take them apart, now that we live in Houston and it is more humid then their home town of Moskvá, so that they won't permanently fuse.
Usually, I pull them apart, then put them together - neatly lining up the beautiful painting so that the top and bottom match, standing them up in a row, biggest to smallest ... in honor of my OCD. Today, I just piled one up and stared at it for a very, very, very long time:
There are 9 dolls in it, just like all of these:
Something tells me that I need to probably work on getting my life looking more like my little blue ladies here, or even my Red Ladies - everything hidden inside, neatly, but there - when I want to get to it. It occurred to me that I just need to start ... one at a time, littlest first...
No problem at all.
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