Words to live by.

“Don’t try to win over the haters; you’re not the jackass whisperer.” Scott Stratten, quoted in Brené Brown’s Daring Greatly, p.171

Because I am not always kind and forbearing.

Significant progress here at home, last night and this morning. I set the timer for half an hour both times and worked on the morass outside my closet. When I went to bed I was able to hang up the clean clothes that have been on hangers since I washed them, were laid in a neat stack on the bed while I was in the shower, and hung up on the shower curtain rod when it was time for bed. A grocery bag of stuff is ready to go out to the trash bin. The non-recyclable plastic boxes that held the rolls of window film are out in the trash bin. The recycling bin which holds paper is significantly more full. It was thirsty work, so there are more empties in the bin which holds plastic and metal. (We don't have to separate the recycling, but I do so because I can fit more into each bin that way.) There has been some shredding.

I slept in until 6:30 this morning. Bliss! I picked up Fourthborn for Bittiest's birthday party, dropped her off at home again, and hit the flea market. Thankfully, I found nothing that wanted to come home with me, but I had a great conversation with the owners of the booth where I bought the corner chair and the table which has become my computer desk. They are very much interested in the church pew that is in my garage. I can't get to it to measure it, although I tried last night, but I've estimated it to be 9-10 feet long. There is only one wall in the house where it truly fits, and I have other plans for that wall. Finding another home for the church pew would open up a corridor in the garage and greatly simplify cleaning and decluttering it.

I really really really want a nap. But I think I will make a dash to Hobby Lobby first. I need a small to medium piece of foamcore board so I may work on a handful of small projects.

I got the toe bound off for the first of what are likely to be an unending supply of pink Jitterbug baby socks. And maybe a dozen rounds worked on the cuff of its mate.