The thing growing in the closet

So far, I've spent the first week of 2015 trying to clean out a giant mess of mold in my closet. I would like to think of this as a metaphor. I would like to, but, there is, or was, a giant mess of mold in my closet; the real deal stuff, that I am extremely allergic to. We sealed the windows to shut out the drafty cold in our old house, and in the process we gave the spores of decay a place to fester and thrive amongst the overflow of boxes of memories and junk we failed to unpack. We didn't notice right away until it was climbing the walls and carpeting the outsides of our boxes of memories, and the illness had already set in.

It's really the perfect metaphor, isn't it?

The truth is, I have a lot of mold in my metaphorical closet, as well, that I hope to finally clean out this year. I want to unpack those long forgotten boxes of memories, good and bad, toss out the ones that I don't want or need any longer, air the newly emptied space out until I feel healthy and whole again. I feel like I have become a hoarder of things that have been detrimental to my psyche, and I am ready to call in the cleaning crew. I don't want to be insulated from the rest of the life that I could be living.

I'm going to write one of my books this year, and find someone to publish it. That is the sum total, along with the above closet cleaning, of my new year resolution. It's a big one, but I believe I am going to do it.

We don't *do* F2F anymore.

My friend Kari recently made an entry in her blog about how people just aren't talking on the phone anymore, as in - the internet is the new all-encompassing social hub. I have to admit, I didn't really think about it much because I am not a phone person. I'm not even really a "face to face" person, to be honest; every relationship I've ever had outside of my husband and my kids, I have let slip through my fingers. It's not that I'm not interested [well, in lots of cases, I'm sure], but ... uhm, I don't have a therapist just for kicks. I have issues - probably more than your local magazine rack. I have them for valid reasons, but I have reached a point in my life where it is time to put those issues on a shelf and get on with things.

Book Stores Mean Civilization

You know what I would really appreciate having in this town? An honest to God national chain book store. We have NONE. I can't think of a single one in our entire county. Who thought that would be a good idea? The only places to shop for new books are Wal-Mart, Kmart, random grocery stores, or the Christian book store on Main Street [if, indeed, it's even still there]. Then we have a used book store behind Main Street which is basically just a very small hole in the wall with books lined from floor to ceiling - you literally have to walk sideways to get through various parts of this place. I think it was built and stocked based on Stephen King's book, Insomnia; more specifically, Atropos's underground haven, crammed to the gills with the magpie-like collection of objects from random people that crossed his path. It smells musty and vaguely of night sweat. Other than that, we have the various county libraries. They are quite small, needless to say; we only have a population of a little over 10 thousand residents. But I am not one that likes borrowing, anyway; I am a chronic re-reader, and need the option of selecting any number of books at random off of my own book shelves. I may read it in a couple of days worth time, or it may take me a month--I don't care much for deadlines or late fees.