My house is out of control. Note: I was going to say a "little" out of control, but then I realized that doesn't really make any sense. Either it's in control or out of control, there's no middle ground.
I would like to blame it on the fact that our house is very small and has no closets and no where for me to work on projects. That's my normal excuse. And it may have some validity. But the truth of the matter is that I am to blame. I have a terrible history of starting projects and then not finishing them. I also tackle projects that are way too big for the amount of time I have to give to them. I don't want to put anything away once I've pulled it out and got it organized, so then it just sits. For days. Sometimes weeks. OK, maybe for a month or two. Until I come to my senses, realize I'm not going to get it done this time around and pack it all up. Until the next time I feel inspired.
This is where I find myself today. I started a photo project. The only place I have to work on it is our dining table. We ate off of folding tables in the living room for two weeks so I could work on the project. Then, it happened. I lost interest. Or I lost my momentum. Or my motivation. Or all three. So now, the project sits on half the table, spilling over onto the unused chairs around the table. Even I'm sick of looking at it!
So today, I will pack it up. Berating myself the entire time for my lack of discipline in completing a task. For creating chaos in my home instead of peace and serenity. For being human.
I tell myself that I'm not the only one. That other people fall off the wagon into clutter from time to time. But I really believe that everyone else is perfect while I'm... not.
Good thing I have some peanut clusters in the house to console myself with.
