Not that I have one.
Just one of the many ways that my mess happens. Thoughtlessly collected clutter meets a moment of desperation, typically when I’m in a big hurry, and I have to “make do” and stuff the clutter somewhere. Anywhere. To be dealt with “later.”But, of course, when “later” comes, I don’t feel like dealing with it. It’s easier to just enjoy a clutter-free purse and ignore the bag on the floor. I can’t actually throw it away, of course, because there might be something important in it.—————
I wanted to end the post there. Isn’t it enough that I acknowledge my faults? That I’m honest about my lame excuses?
But I did it. I went through the bag, and the purse, and trashed almost everything. I even put doctor’s and dentist’s appointments on the calendar and threw away the little cards. I guess that’s a better way to remember than to hope I’ll run across the card in my purse a week or so before (not after) the scheduled appointment.
I did it.
But I didn’t like it.