Spring cleaning

Armed with ‘I’ve had enough with this room been so cluttered’ thoughts, and an unopened divine bottle of Moscato Bianco wine, I decided to take on the task of doing some spring cleaning. Yeah, I decided to just get rid of piles of paper that will not make my tax refund magically increase, or even appear for what it’s worth, since none of my receipts from the supermarket, Friday nights out, Chipotle, not even Starbucks, will somehow become tax deductions. Although I’ve made my fair contributions to Starbucks!

But oh, if it wasn’t for that bottle… more than half way, let’s say 77% almost done, (I just like the number 7), Spring cleaning turned into tipsy dialing. Which is a drunken dialing kind of scenario, just a bit less drunk. Get it? And I know you must be thinking, but it’s Monday!!! But, didn’t I say I was having Moscato Bianco wine, with a hint of honey, oh just so delicious, while doing some Spring cleaning?!

Spring cleaning turned into let me open that bottle that has been sitting for 3 weeks, opening the bottle turned into tipsy dialing and tipsy dialing turned it to, ‘why can’t I forget that number’?!?!?!? (I needed more than 3 combined with exclamation points, sorry). But I guess we all do it. Don’t we? We all want to be ‘out there’. Just step out of the comfort zone and see what’s ‘out there’. But, before we jump, we just have to make that phone call, or whatever works best for each: burn letters, put away picture albums, etc. etc. For me it was a spring cleaning Monday afternoon tipsy calling. Well, I’ve tried the delete # from cell phone, put away all the pictures, sending ‘before the year ends note’, and blah blah blah. I guess it hasn’t worked 100% accurate after all. But, spring is here and I want to be ‘out there’.

So, I’m glad I had the wine, I’m glad I made the call, and I’m glad his phone was dead. It is spring… when flowers bloom, “the sun is shinning and the weather is sweet”. I’ll keep enjoying my wine, finish my spring cleaning and just keep pushing myself out of my comfort zone… one baby step at a time.