In which I attempt to purge, sort and pack while sneezing

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?