Sometimes you just can’t blog because you actually have real shit to do.

And for the last couple days, serious shit went down. For hours I’ve been taking inventory of my basement contents and all outdated, broken, worthless, and unused items have either been recycled, regifted, or rejected.

Sorry, readers, but I have been totally consumed.  Possessed.  Manic.

It all started when my new dining room chairs were delivered, necessitating the storage of 6 old chairs until I get them back to my mother-in-law.  That lead me to the basement and all things scary and repressed.

You know, the basement is supposed to reflect our past, which is probably why so much junk ends up there, we often don’t want to deal with it, and when we finally do, it’s a lot of work.  So the next time you have a little flood or sewer backup, maybe your basement is telling you there is some past crap you need to take care of.

If it wasn’t for Dalai Dan offering to help, I don’t think I could have faced the staggering amounts of old junk clogging my cosmic energy. I’m pretty sure I freed an 8 year-old Dalai, mortified after the school nurse found lice in her hair, in an old box of empty DVD boxes. A huge bag of random late century stereo cords was the key to letting go of my pent up anger towards my Kindergarten teacher who yelled at me for not understanding a math worksheet.Bitch. Poor, stressed out woman.

I feel liberated.  And that is just the beginning.  I haven’t even tackled the closets, cupboards, and garage.  Don’t worry, I’ll resurface.