While waiting for dinner to cook (Tater Tot Casserole, thanks for asking), I headed to my scary storage room to sort and pack. I had a giant box for donations and a smaller box for books and such. (Well, several smaller boxes and a very stupid roll of packing tape that insisted on clinging to itself instead of staying neat and tidy in the dispenser. Curse you uncooperative packing tape!)
I spent an unfortunate amount of time literally twirling in a slow circle in the center of the room, wondering exactly where I could find a place to start. That must be how it feels to dangle off the side of a sheer cliff, trying to grab a craggy rock or something but instead just flailing and panicking. No progress. Just a flurry of nothing.
Then I began to move things from shelf to shelf and occasionally, I’d tuck something into a box. I decided to part with some old issues of Martha Stewart Living (such a gorgeous magazine) but kept a few craft books because you never know when I might actually start quilting again. Or cover a lampshade. Or play a hymn on the piano. I gained some momentum, filled up two boxes and continued packing.
The funny thing, though, is when I uncovered a dusty unopened package of floral wire. I rubbed the dust off of it. You never know when you might need floral wire, I said to myself. I moved it to the shelf of Things to Save For No Apparent Reason.
I stopped. Tilted my head in that universal sign of “huh”? I picked up the wire, looked at the price tag. Fifty-nine cents. I’ve owned it for at least ten years, maybe longer.
I decided to let it go. Because . . . seriously.
If some day in the near or distant future I find myself in dire need of floral wire, I will trot down to the local floral wire store (also known as Walmart) and purchase a package.
Save me from myself.
Thank you and . . . need any latex paint? How about a broken computer monitor?