Cabin Fever

I'd much rather spend unproductive days lying on this couch, daydreaming of better days.


This place is comfortable enough to spend a whole day in doing nothing but still doesn't feel like home. How is it that I still have no broom, couch, coffee table, spatula, or bowls to speak of? How long have I been here? The days are certainly bleeding together. Yet, still no couch. Laziness strikes again and again and all I do is bitch about it.

I think I may be afraid of acquiring more 'stuff'. I took such pride and pleasure in getting rid of all my belongings. Shedding skins, learning to judge things harshly, and quit this meaningless pack ratting. I was so amused by the fact that moving to Austin took me only one trip and my compact corolla was far from full. There was definitely enough room for a straggler or two in the backseat. 'Stuff' weighs you down, makes every step a little harder to take. I like a cozy home as much as the next gal but I have a hard time collecting little trinkets for every corner. I try my best to be a minimalist but it seems I don't have that down quite right. I don't do it where it counts. Trade your blackberry and $80 boots for a couch and then we're talking! I feel the list urge coming on. I can barely keep my fingers from typing
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But I'll keep that habit on pen and paper. Its much more satisfying to scratch and scribble out a "to do" than hold down backspace.