State of Suspense.

It's not that we like being Worriers. It's just who we are.


So when your mind gets foggy with the burn of alcohol on your cracked lips and your empty round belly is full of butterflies and beer; when you forget how to put heel to toe with outstretched arms and how to walk forward with your head held high; when your carefree smile isn't enough to sober you up and you can't shrug your way out of slammed confusion; don't hate us for being Worriers. 


Being Worriers makes us Warriors. 


Because who is it that has Plan B folded neatly in our back pocket? Who is it that cares enough to check on you? Who is it that pulls you out of the hole you so effortlessly failed to notice?


Us,


-A

My Yearly Room Cleaning...

About once a year, I get this sudden, uncharacteristic urge to clean my room. And not just pick up the crap off my floor, but a real Room Purge.

That means dusting, vacuuming, and wiping the shit out of everything. By the time I get my annual urge to purge there is a layer of dust on my ceiling fan a foot thick.

I label two huge trash bags, "Trash" and "Goodwill", and then line up three paper bags for recycle.  I go through every little knick knack in my room and decide to keep or throw away or reorganize. For myself, a hoarder, it's a one or two week process. Because you can't rush a process like this.

Everything has to end up on the floor at some point so I can evaluate its worth. Everything must be submitted for a major dusting. And 90% of the things I own get put in a new spot. So as you can imagine, it always get worse before it gets better. I'm currently at the worse stage. (Or maybe a little bit better because I can finally see my floor again!)

Anyway, I have faith that it will start looking pretty good soon. I mean, I should have a good week left of my cleaning craze (fueled by the satisfaction of recycling all my schoolwork from the past 7 years. Woohoo for graduating high school!)
-A