So I'm sure it will be a relief to know that I'm coming back to the mundane, topic-wise. No more moaning and nashing of teeth over "dreams" - pshaw!
I've got more immediate problems-my rectangular living room! It's semi-long and narrow and has been overtaken by toddler toy-a-palooza!
There isn't much of a solution to this situation. TBO and I joke that if we hold our hands up to block off the bottom 2/3 of our view, it looks like a grown-up sitting room. So that's what we do.
I'm trying to shed stuff over the next few days - too much stuff = too much craziness in my head. I think our things can hold residual energy - sometimes that's lovely, and we call it "nostalgia" and sometimes it's just a bunch of junk that collects dust and makes us feel sad and weary. So bye-bye, my tchotckes.
The lovely Anna Quindlen puts it far better than I:
Americans have been on an acquisition binge for decades. I suspect television advertising, which made me want a Chatty Cathy doll so much as a kid that when I saw her under the tree my head almost exploded. By contrast, my father will be happy to tell you about the excitement of getting an orange in his stocking during the Depression. The depression before this one.
I remember the disbelief I experienced when I awoke to a Cabbage Patch doll, the very first year they came out. I said "Santa made a mistake and gave me someone else's doll," as my parents had told me to not expect such a present. So I understand her comment about exploding heads on Christmas morn.
The bambino still seems more enthralled by the boxes the gifts come in than the gifts themselves. So I'm grateful that I have a house, even with its odd-shaped living room, and really will work to embrace the "less is more" mantra!
