Binge and Purge

Summer brings with it so much that enriches my already rich life. Okay - I know it's not technically Summer, but my life truly has two seasons - School and Summer - so for me, summer is here.

I love the way summer allows me to write. I have the time to do it, and less of the guilt that I ought to be doing something else.

This morning, I finished a book before I even got out of bed (reading it, not writing it). No other time of the year can I indulge myself in such a way.

The windows are open constantly - fresh air filling the dank and dusty corners of my soul!!! Sure, some mornings it's a bit nippley in the house, but 56 somehow feels more tolerable now than in the dark months.

Beer tastes so much better on a sunny patio. So much better.

And the dancing begins in earnest. Ah, dancing, the nectar of my being.

But, finally and hugely, my annual purge.

Those of you (don't you love this - what a Pollyanna I am!) who know anything about my Momma know that calling her a hoarding pack-rat is really not a severe enough description for her condition. Quite literally, there are aisles to get through most living parts of the house, and several (yes several) rooms that are nearly impenetrable by humans. And I am using "Literally" in the literal sense, not as a tool of my much beloved hyperbole. People must see it to appreciate - the few that have ventured to Novi to witness, despite my preparations, were astounded by the amount of Stuff. Seriously.

And my greatest fear, despite my love for my parents, is to turn out to be them. Terrifies me (again, I am abandoning the hyperbole) more than anything, including heights, birds, and even Republicans. So, while mom buys lots, recovers lots from others, and keeps it all in her brimming house, I tend to discard anything I haven't used in the last fifteen minutes (okay - now I've allowed my beloved to rear its beautiful head).

The first two weeks of summer are devoted primarily to deep cleaning and thinning out the "Stuff" that I have somehow needlessly collected. I don't know where half this Stuff comes from. I fancy myself a light consumer, but apparently this is self-deception, because every summer I manage to pull enough Stuff into my garage to sit there for an afternoon attempting to lure other innocents into the same traps I fell into throughout the year.

It may not be my favorite part of summer, but it keeps me sane.