A Few of My Favorite Things

I am surprised to admit that spring cleaning is actually an enjoyable experience for me.  Here are a few things that I look forward to during and after the clean up:

1.  Replacing flannel sheets with lighter linens.  Slipping into them at night feels cool and comfortable as the heat turns up outside.

2.  Opening all the windows in the house.  There’s nothing like fresh air blowing in to make you breathe in a little deeper.

3.  Cleaning out my car.  Giving the windows and interior a thorough cleaning almost makes it feel new again.

4.  Getting rid of clutter for a yard sale.  What’s better?  More space, or the thought of a little cash in your pocket? 

5.  Giving the dog a bath.  Let’s face it, she may be cute, but she’s kinda smelly. 

Spring is always related to renewal and I truly believe the warm fresh air does wonders for our winter cabin fevers.  I know the minute I can open the windows in the house, I feel like new life has been brought into my home and my family.  It’s as refreshing as walking out on a warm day to feel the sun on your face and a light breeze at your back.

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Don’t read this post?

I started this blog thinking I would use it as a pseudo-diary plus chance to stretch out my writing legs.  I’ve only written a few posts and I’m sad to say I think my sister is the only one reading them…hey, sis! 

It’s funny when you think that you’ll start something that no one will see, yet you get disappointed when no one sees it.  Why is that?  Why do we torture ourselves with the reverse psychology that never works?  I sit here typing away thinking if I put this title on the post, someone will read it.  Right?  No.  Oh, who am I kidding?  I’m certainly not writing in it enough to keep steady interest.  I’m definitely not writing anything eyecatching.  Just a slow trickle of forced writing that has nothing to do with anything.  So, why should anyone read it? 

And above all else, I think I’m trying too hard to avoid being offensive or brash so that any potential employers may  not look down upon my writing or my opinions.  Maybe I just need to stop being so cautious and just write.  I’ve spent too many years fitting in to other people’s boxes.  I can’t get fired, I’m already unemployed!  And when I find a job, I want to be hired for the person I am as a whole.  I know how to be a great employee, that was never a problem. 

All I want to do here is write.  Whether that means a page, or a poem, or a line.  Whether it’s every week or every day.  There’s no reason for me to censor my own thoughts and opinions here for anyone else’s benefit because no one is reading it. 

Comments?  Anyone?

Metaphorically Speaking…

A long time ago, I suffered a deep wound.  I had received cuts like it before, but this one went a lot deeper than the others.  And even though I knew it hurt like no other, I simply slapped a Band-Aid on it, like I always had, and moved on.  Every now and then, I would feel the ache from it and see that it still had not healed.  All the others had healed just fine.  I even forgot about most of them.  But, this one, it still lingered, never able to close on its own.

So, recently, I came to my senses.  I realized that if I just rip that Band-Aid off, I could clean it up, sort out the damage and stitch it up properly in order to get some real healing.  Sure, it might leave a scar, but it would finally be healed. 

It’s a funny thing, ripping off that Band-Aid.  You stare at it.  You wonder what is the best angle you can grip it at to tear it off quickly.  You might even contemplate whether it is worth it at all to rip it off, or just let the adhesive wear down and it will eventually come off itself.  However, this Band-Aid was never going to fall off on its own.  It was holding on for dear life.  Every day it would convince itself that it was doing its job. 

I gave in.  I ripped it off.  What a relief!  I have to say, it was a very liberating feeling.  I thought that keeping that bandage on was what was keeping me going.  I agonized for days anticipating the pain of getting rid of it.  I even thought that tearing it off was going to be the beginning of an ordeal of stinging antiseptic and piercing stitching.  It turns out, the first step was the final step.  I already feel like I am healing.  And no matter what the cost of the medical treatment in the end, I think that I have already paid the price. 

To be continued?  Maybe…