… but I do admit I hang on to too much ‘stuff’. I don’t know why really, because my mother wasn’t like that at all. She was ruthless about getting rid of anything and everything she no longer needed, wanted or used. Or fit into, for that matter.
Maybe this is nothing more than an act of rebellion on my part. I’ve never thought of it in quite that way before. Or maybe I just take after my father. My mother used to crack the whip on both of us.
My closets and drawers are not a thing of organized beauty. Neither is my desk. Or my bookcase. Or just about any surface you can find in my apartment. My handbag’s the same. A royal mess. I can never find anything in there, Continue reading