So my darling husband, Robert, finally noticed that I have been taking random pictures of cabinets and the bottom of cans of baking powder. Usually he is hesitant to ask but I suppose it was just too much. I tried to explain that I was "blogging out" my cluttered mind by sharing the process of de-cluttering my house. He looked at me the way the dog looks at me when I take the last bite of something without sharing. Completely. Unamused.
I don't think I explained it all that well, I went a little tangent-y (my word) on channeling the process and how this was going to become something much larger in the process and how I was going to pull in all these wonderful people in my life and probably a sentence or two of some new age growth and how I can't trust my instincts ever because that is how the house got so dirty. It seems that scrubbing out cabinets leaves plenty of time for my mind to wander.
But . . . as it moves forward there are patterns beginning to emerge. I don't like to hang up my coat. WALT never has his hung up either. My husband doesn't put anything away on a consistent basis. I suppose the argument could be the general lack of organization but he's in deep shit if I fall over dead/have a nervous breakdown/head for the hills.
I have to get him on board, but how??? This is trickier that the proper number of coffee mugs or suitcases.
In positive news . . . Yesterday afternoon, while scrubbing out the top cabinet WALT appeared and asked "Mommy, is there anything I can do to help?"
There is hope yet.