As luck would have it, my brain was too cluttered to write anything with substance today. So on this particular Sunday, I spent some time putting unnecessary thoughts out by the curb, then compartmentalized, categorized and labeled the ideas worth saving and put them into their appropriate locations. Contemplation in the drawers, irony and humor in the cupboards, and the darker items that get hung up on our brief insignificance packed up into boxes, up to the attic with them.
I also cleaned out the garage today and the sense of freedom...the sense of freedom...well...the sense of freedom feels...
I can't quite think of the right words.
Well...my garage brain is clear...or empty...or just free from thought clutter. That's a Sunday for you.
Today's Jazz Hands were wiggly and stuff. That's the best I've got.
Day one-hundred and fifty-three complete.
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