As many of you may remember, I moved into this restored whorehouse about seven years ago. We’d worked on it for 13 years when our place out in the country suddenly sold; it wasn’t quite finished and seven years later still isn’t quite done.
I’ve struggled with the many mini-moves of migratory children (6 to and fro), Mr. Mike’s many hospilizations and ultimately, his death. I had 28 really bad months in a row.
I managed to keep the bills paid and the dogs fed, but that was it.
Instead of looking at this Chloe-created chaos/squalor as a bad thing, I’m going to look at it as a petri dish for change. I had to wait until it was full of every kind of paper/junk/treasures before I could use it as a training ground. It’s an adventure, not a punishment, not a failure.
So with the help of Lisa of Organize 365, I’m getting my laundry baskets together to corral every scrap of paper and starting her 100 days challenge.
I’ll post links later and pictures, too. Don’t judge me too harshly; I already know my mother would be spinning in her grave over the state of my life.
I’m just trying to get to a place where my refuge looks more like an oasis and less like a refugee camp.