I have a hundred blog entries that I’ve written in my head, none of which ever made it to the screen. I’m sure many of us are like that. I’ll bet you even walk through life composing Facebook status updates, arranging and re-arranging them in your mind as you debate where wit becomes sarcasm, and just how much the internet really needs to know about your current physical state.
I’m not a very consistent internet presence because I go back and forth on how much and in what manner I really want to reveal myself and my family. I’ve taken to Facebook, but not without some pangs of conscience. I tweet mostly because it is required for giveaways of the fluffy variety. (“Fluff,” for you non-initiates, is a term used to describe cloth diapers, in reference to the bulky bottoms they produce.) Incidentally, my husband, being the good sport that he is, put the baby in a cloth diaper the other day, which would be wonderful were it not for the fact that we are moving next Wednesday and I’ve already washed and begun to pack all the other cloth diapers. So now I’m putting off washing said diaper until I figure out what else I can launder with it according to the rather specific protocols I have in place for fluffy wash. All of which is, of course, leading me to this: we are moving. I should perhaps have begun this entry with that, but there you have it. My mind is discombobulated, and I have a tendency to digression even in the best of times. I am surrounded by boxes, most of which bear the markings of previous moves. I can barely move in our main living spaces, and it seems as though there is a very real possibility that even if every friend we have gives us every box they have, there still won’t be enough. This is one of the few times in life that I catch myself seriously considering a life without books. I mean, a single iPad/Kindle/Nook could hold far more than the 30 or so boxes of books we own, and slip nicely into my diaper bag when we head out. Come to think of it, perhaps if they made an Inspector Gadget cooking device that performed every function performed by my three drawers of kitchen utensils, that would be fantastic. Or clothing that changed thickness and texture with the seasons and altered its style and color to suit the occasion. Maybe baby spit resistant clothing? That alone would reduce my wardrobe by half.
I want to write so many things, but the insanity surrounding me impedes my thoughts. My husband, who is by nature far neater than I am, is right to note that our habits, including cleanliness, affect the state of our soul…. and mine, just now, is cluttered. The home we moved into and remodeled when we married, then sold two and a half years ago, is up for sale again. It almost makes me want to go back, for simplicity’s sake… but we’ve moved on since then, and are moving to an entirely different part of the valley. We will be living so very close to our family, which is fantastic … but I am saddened by the loss of something so very unique and beautiful.