When I was growing up, Mom had the great idea to move all of the 5 girls that remained at home into 1 bedroom. I know I’ve told parts of this story before, but please bear with me. There’s a point to this.

The upstairs was unevenly divided in size between 2 bedrooms. The small bedroom had 2 built-in bunks under the eaves, and Dad built an additional triple-bunk along the wall.

The room had a half-height “closet” carved out from under the eaves.

The large bedroom was turned into a play-study-dressing room and held our 5 dressers, 5 desks, a love seat, and a record player. The room also had a tiny closet, but at least it was full height, and had 2 hanging rods.

Both rooms were stuffed to overflowing, but I loved to lounge on the love seat and play the 1 record we had over and over. The record was “The Best of Hank Williams (Senior)” and had many uplifting ditties, such as “Long Gone Lonesome Blues”, “Lost Highway”, “Why Don’t You Love Me”, and “I Heard  That Lonesome Whistle”.

My point is, I was programmed from a young age to try to fit 10 pounds of shit into a 5 pound bag. And be depressed. Very depressed.

Back to March, 2016.

I needed to clean the house for a Stampin’ Up party being held at my house last weekend. I had 3 months to do all the work in, so I worked on clearing out the art studio (because, priorities). Meanwhile, the living room, dining room and kitchen got worse and worse.

The day before the party, No.2 Sis came over and helped me bag and box all the junk from the public part of the house and load it into the private areas. We tried to stuff 10 pounds of shit into 5 pound bags and then hide it from sight. Instead of making progress on the house, I made digress…congress?…regress? I made regress.

Now the laundry room, Queen bedroom and Studio look like this.

messy room digression

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And I’m depressed. Very depressed.

Stay tuned…

p.s. I signed up to be a Stampin’ Up demonstrator after the party. I know it helps depression if you can make decisions, any decisions, and take action, any actions. But sweet pickled Jesus, what have I done?