presents are unwrapped
head is exploding from noise
boy, that sure was fast
Now that Christmas is over I have that anxious new year feeling. The one where you want to set your house on fire and start over from the beginning.
I want to move furniture and paint walls and write books and read books and rip up carpet and put in floors and go to Ikea and spend a million dollars and make stacks of paper and dig through drawers.
I want to incinerate all of my clothes.
I want to buy red bookshelves with glass doors.
I want to display my 49 million typewriter tins.
I want to color my hair.
None of these count as resolutions, they're just things I want to do. I think the new year is worse than spring fever. I get obsessive determinations… Write a book! (that was a few years ago.) Sell the house! (that was a few years after writing the book.) This year I have too many. It's from being trapped in the house, I think. My choices are: Spiral into grouchy funk! or Buy new sofa and paint some bookshelves!
I probably will never paint any bookshelves. Can you imagine the poison control calls I'd have to make, at home alone with the wee one, the wee-er one, Ike-a-saurus, the evil dog, and cans of red paint?
So I am sitting here, feeling a little manic. I might have to start throwing things into the backyard as a preemptive bonfire attempt.
I want so badly to have good memories to replace the bad ones from last year. And setting things on fire seems kind of nice.
Are you talking about the red bookshelves with glass doors at Ikea? Because if so, I share the sentiment. I have been lusting after those bookshelves.
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I want things! I like fire! We should hang out! 😉
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