Creating room to breathe

I’ve been busy the past few days finishing final layout on the September issue of Horizons Magazine and haven’t had time for too much else.  That seems like a fib when I check the nonsense I’ve written on my Facebook wall all day long, but it only takes a moment to make a post while working in other programs.  I over-moused my starboard paw, so every few hours I had to come up with something else to do to keep my wrist in another position.  I looked around the office and began organizing and rearranging, then decided I’d paint the two tables I just brought in there.  I went to Walmart for white paint, then came back and rolled the tables out onto the driveway.  I quickly gave a first and second coat, and while they dried, I checked the files I had stacked on the shelves in the five bookcases in the office.  Much of it I needed to keep, a third of it I tossed.  One bookcase had a makeshift shelf laid across the top, and I remembered I had another shelf the correct size in the garage.  It took me just 10 minutes to put the proper top piece on, a job that I could have done two years ago.  It’s interesting I think how organized and uncluttered I am, then I find 50 lbs of paperwork I can toss.  One big downside of even a little clutter is that it takes valuable time maintaining all this paperwork and stuff, time I could be spending doing fun things.

On my way to Walmart this morning, I was surprised to see I was going 70 on Emerson Drive, speed limit 40. But everyone else was going the same speed and it didn’t feel like 70. Knowing the cops hide and watch, I slowed to 40. Everyone began passing, giving me dirty looks. I felt silly but hey the speed limit is 40! Oh, right, miles per hour, not kilometers. I’d hit the control panel by mistake.  How many other times have I screwed up because I’d depended on the wrong input?  Because I depended on what my eyes tell me although my other senses tell me otherwise?  Kind of like trusting when the weatherman says it’s going to rain or be an active storm season, yet I know by how the plants and animals act that won’t be true.

Every few hours all weekend long I alternated computer work with furniture rearranging.  I moved another 2 tables and 2 chairs out to the shed, along with a tall shelf and 2 rolling plastic file cabinets.  Where is this furniture coming from? I wonder.  My house is under 2000 square feet.

I unplugged two power strips and rerouted a mile or so of electrical cords.  I pulled the furniture away from the walls in the office and swept behind everything.  I changed lamps with lighting from other rooms.  Each time I left the office and walked back into it, it had reached a new level of white and bright.

I never liked white growing up.  I didn’t care to wear it and as a young adult I didn’t want my walls or furniture white. White reminded me of hospital, clinical, institutional, all function.  It wasn’t until I went through 30 years of deep colors, my decor rather dark and intricate, that I began to want to brighten a room up, and lighten it up with far less in it.  Now light and bright and spacious is what I prefer.

And, face it, with less for my eyes to focus on, it’s easier to relax and have room to stretch and breathe.

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