Tuesday, November 17, 2009

A Confession . . .

My life is too cluttered with help. What do I mean by this? Well, I am a self-help junkie. I have tons of books on how to be a snappy dresser, a gourmet cook (while still cramming in the requisite amount of healthy grains and produce), a financial whiz, a buff goddess (so I can look good in all those snappy clothes), an interior decorator, a bon vivant, and still earn the title of the "World's Greatest Mom". And if you move on from the bookshelf, you will find a regular periodical library - magazines on parenting, cooking, make-up, exercise . . . because, really, who has time to read an entire book these days? Let's not even discuss the myriad of bookmarks in my FireFox favorites file for the tons of blog articles I have read and wanted to remember and have never checked again. Too Much.

Do I think there is something wrong with me? Well, not really - no more than that average woman, I am willing to wager. But don't we all want to be "that woman"? You know the one - who keeps her house, car and life immaculate, despite her 1.5 perfect children. Yes, she is a myth. And all the info in the world won't make me "that woman". But there is something soothing in thinking that a little bit of perfection is attainable. So the clutter of perfection collects and piles up in my life - a constant reminder of what I have yet to achieve.

Well - no more! Am I going cold-turkey? No way! I still need my blog carnivals, after all. But it will no longer take over my home. I am clearing it out - starting with the magazines. In what is sure to be a longer task than I am anticipating, I am making it my mission to go through all my magazines, read what I want from them, then toss them in the recycle bin. Sounds so easy and so small - but believe me when I say this is a Herculean task I have before me. Wish me luck.