I used to suffer from a fear of avocados.

I loved them, and would be happy with a family-sized serving of guacamole all to myself, but I wouldn’t buy avocados in the store.

See, I did once.  It was early in marriage, and I was proud of myself for putting Guacamole-from-Scratch on our menu for the night.

But I didn’t know what I was doing. I grabbed the prettiest, shiniest avocados I could find.  I took them home and made dinner (I have no idea what it was), and attempted to cut the avocados.

And cutting them was so much more difficult than I thought it would be.

And we couldn’t eat them.  They wouldn’t mash up into guacamole, and the slices/chunks I whacked out of them were inedible.

So I went on strike.  I didn’t buy another avocado for the next 12 years.

I would buy packages of pre-made guacamole when it was on sale AND I had a coupon, but otherwise we just learned to live without guacamole as part of our Tex-Mex meals.

And we eat a lot of Tex-Mex meals.

Anyway, last year on our first (and next-to-last) liver cleanse when we ate only fruits and veggies for two weeks, I mustered up some  courage and asked a little old lady in the grocery store to help me learn how to choose a good avocado.

She was very helpful, and I came home and made perfect guacamole.

And now . . . I buy them all the time.  Fresh, homemade guacamole is often my lunch.

And I wonder why I avoided them for all those years.

It’s the same with other things around here.  I avoid toys-with-teeny-tiny-parts because we’ve never found an effective way to keep them under control.  I won’t let myself near the cutesy-basket-aisle because I start having flashbacks of failed organizing projects of the past.

Thankfully, none of my kids seem to be obsessed with toys that have teeny-tiny-parts, and our home is ever-so-much more organized due to the fact that I let myself JUST declutter.

But maybe at some point, I should try again to use baskets to organize.  Maybe I shouldn’t accidentally misplace every toy-with-teeny-tiny-parts that enters our home.

Maybe I could try one basket for the kitchen counter’s never-ending parade of vitamins.

Maybe.