I don’t know about you, but I am the type of person that will put something in a spot with the best intentions of taking it where it belongs yet getting so used to it being in that spot I tend to forget. I just walked into my den and decided to look at it with new eyes. It’s a bit ridiculous in here.
– There’s the pile of running shoes (my den is just inside the front door).
– The rocking chair with my coat hanging on it and my son’s artwork forlornly on the seat waiting to be hung up on the art wall.
– There’s the broken laptop that I have been intending to fix for the children for about 8 months now.
– There is a pile of floor samples (for the basement project).
And then against the bookshelves I have a basket of potato head toys bound for the garage sale. (I’m a little sad about that, I really like Mr. Potato Head.) And three stacks of girl scout cookies that need to be delivered to family the next time we see them.
The corner behind my desk is the most ridiculous of all: a pile of Cooking Light magazines with corners folded down so I can add them to my digital recipe library. My red cheer coach bag (cheer season runs from July-Nov). Two piles of books, papers & supplies for my Sunday CCD class and three pieces of wood that I took out of my son’s room after I found him “carving” and leaving splinters all over the floor.
My desk is surprisingly not so messy but then I round out the room with this:
That would be a box filled with party leis, a beach picture backdrop and a Resuscitator Annie doll.
There’s a reason for it but I can’t even explain myself.
This room is a microcosm of my brain these days. I swear I’m not turning into a hoarder but what does it say when the first thing people see as they walk in your house is a Resuscitator Annie doll lying in a box of leis?