In honor of my decision to complete everything I start, I unpacked our two suitcases the same day we got home. I have to say it felt good. My usual m.o. is to leave them standing by the stairs, then a few days later clunk, clunk drag them to the bedroom, a few days after that open the big one and route through for a specific shirt or pair of shoes leaving the pillaged mess in a heap, later stare at it and hate it, push it into the corner, never go into the room unless it’s to go to bed, have sweaty, disturbed and restless nights of sleep because nothing around me is peaceful and tidy, wake up irritable and cross, yell at my children when they don’t agree with everything I say, add it to the list that includes going to the post office, returning library books and getting another job so I can pay all my bills, set aside a later time when I promise myself I will do it, get distracted by one interesting and 107 not so interesting links and sites and articles on the computer, swear I’ll do it the next day, have a deadline to meet or appointment to drive to in 15 minutes and then… I’ll unpack, only instead of putting everything away I’ll dump it into a laundry bag, oh my god, there’s that book. It’s not good to have that kind of symbol lurking in my room.
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