Sunday

Instead of my pillow, I am drawn to the keyboard when my family sleeps.

My husband is resting after overhauling the house. Trying to contain the clutter (mostly mine) and to move a mountain--clothes, all mine. "You can put them in this dresser," he says help/hopefully. I give him the stink eye because I don't WANT to deal with all of those clothes that have been hanging over my head for the last four months. I just want to shove them all in big black bags and put them on the curb. FREE. Paper plate sign attached with yellowed masking tape. It would be so much easier to do that. And then, HE could do it and I could go on denying that I have too many clothes and very few that are really flattering. I do love a good procrastination pause at this computer. Sigh...

I contemplated moving out as I was trying to sort a few of the items that are mounded on the bed. "I'll just move upstairs and shut the door to this room," I thought spitefully. I've been using the excuse that Suvi's bassinet is blocking my dresser--it is--but bassinets are quite portable and the real problem is that the dresser is already full. So, I decided that it is time for my four month old darling daughter to move out of our bedroom next door to Theo's room. I organized their closet, put their clean clothes away, sorted out the teeny tiny clothes they have grown out of (dangling preposition), and made room for Suvi's bed near our Theo's. Theo is now napping in our bed (honestly, his favorite place to sleep since we have spoiled him so), in a nest of my clothes. When he wakes I will fight the urge to put those clothes back on the floor. We'll see what happens. I am very noncommittal on this point. I can do it. If I want to. (Don't tell me what to do, only, tell me WHAT to do!). I guess.