Tuesday, March 28, 2017


I'm sorry that I haven't been writing lately. There is just always a lot going on... I have chunks of time free from 9-12 in the morning and then I spend the rest of the time driving here and there and shuffling kids and errands and there is a flurry of in between.... but... compartment. . .

I love this word... puts me in mind of ikea cabinets, tiny Swiss cubbies of organizing madness.  Symbols of cleanliness and godliness in a very distanced, respectful fashion.
It must be a truly satisfying arrangement, cleaning up, putting everything in its place, seeing how segmented life can be when you just have enough compartments.

Its not a real satisfaction, for me, because it would be entirely delusional.  I appreciate it in other women/mother's lives, I suppose, if it fits for them.

I've sort of given up on them.  ITs all messy.  I myself don't fit into one, my kids don't really care what goes where and we all, in our non-OCD ways contribute to an enormous house-wide compartment that truly, has no sides and spills into the roadway once the weather changes...

Currently my house is full of crowded corners. There are the things I am trying to clear out of J's. Yes, still.

It is a situation that makes sense, but I dread the 'day' when he comes to 'clear out' and so am really trying to take care of packing that up and getting as much of it out of my space as I can.  My grand plans, too, are on hold until he and his things are cleared out and I can take action on yard sales and burnings of things left behind.

Is the past in a compartment? It is so changeable and fluid, I don't see how it could be... but it certainly has no present day play, so it should be dead.  Packed up and stored.  But it isn't, is it?

I'm working hard these days on making it not matter so much to me.  It is a thing I have carried on my skin for a long time, making meaning where there isn't any present day play.  And it is time and has been time to shed that particular skin.    

Naked, baby. Naked.

Is there a naked compartment?  Oh, IKEA, I think you may have failed me.