Decluttering Project

The decluttering lady has come and gone (and her bill showed up on the credit card statement I got yesterday). The Salvation Army truck has come and gone, taking a good bit of my excess stuff. And I spent a good part of this weekend finding the proper little niches for all the stuff that hadn't found homes yet. As usual, it took 80% of the time to find places for that last 20% of the stuff. But I feel like I can breathe now. Here are some before-and-after photos.

And wouldn't you know. Just as I was finishing the project (the living room/writers studio part), my good friend, The Other Nancy M, invited me to lunch today to remind me that I had agreed to co-author a book with her. The project will find the writer, as Rachel Carson said. So -- in a couple of weeks, we will start regular biweekly meetings. The goal is to be finished by next Spring.

And of course, I have a zillion ideas for op-eds, and all I need to do is pick one and write the darned thing. And send it to the mentor program at the Op-Ed project to have it vetted and help me shop it around for publication.

But now, I have a space that is conducive to doing that sort of thing, so I have no more excuses. And I got word today that the Washington Ethical Society is starting a concerted effort to form and support a community of creative people, which is something I have been talking about in the abstract for a few years now. So it looks like the Universe is taking me seriously and removing my reasons to remain stuck, one by one. And that's a good thing.

Train wrecks and prison breaks

TGIF. It's been over a month since the train wreck in June, and things are still not back to normal. August promises to be a month of switch repairs and track work. Commuting takes up more time these days, and I'm wearier when I get home. Nothing like those folks who hit the road at 5AM, thankfully, but the trek to and from the paying job takes close to three hours out of my day these days. I read my friends' Facebook postings about mid-day trips to the pool and dropping by the sculpture garden after work for a quick jazz concert and I get a little envious. But I also remember my friends who have been out of work for over a year (and yes, I know more than one such person), and I think that I can put up with the interminable commute to the cubie farm a little bit longer. But I'm plotting my escape.