Monday, November 9, 2009


This weekend I bumped into my sister in the mall parking lot. An odd chance meeting, but my town is not that big. Her car was loaded with "junk" she was taking to the second hand store. By the time we parted company, most of the items from her car were transferred to mine. I chastised myself all the way home. 

Did I really need that puzzle? It had a Dutch windmill. That blouse that she never wore because it made her look pregnant? Nope.

When I got home, I looked around my house and did a one-minute inventory of my shelves and closets. I'm a clutter bug. Once a year or so I do a big sweep and clear out a truck load of things that never made it out of the closet. That faux-pregnancy blouse will probably go at that time.

This post has nothing to do with my writing. Or maybe it does. I saw a sign once that said, if a cluttered desk is the sign of a cluttered mind, what does a completely empty desk say? I think my life is cluttered because I am constantly gathering data. I am creative and see potential in everything. 

My next story is about a Dutch woman trying to fool everyone into believing she was pregnant when in fact....

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