I’ve been trying to downsize all my shit because I almost suffocated under the mass of stuffed animals I had comforting me as I slept. Like every other tiny book loving woman, I too read Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up and I too began dumping my belongings  onto the floor, laying on top of the mound, and then shoving them all back in my drawers and deciding to do it another day.

Why do I still have this shirt that doesn’t fit, I don’t wear, and I don’t even particularly like?

Because I saw the Brave Little Toaster and I know my things have FEELINGS and if I abandon them they will die of little broken hearts.

…or something like that.

I also have a small room in a small apartment with minimal storage so my 47 flannel shirts and 10 pairs of  jeans get folded and crammed into a drawer made for delicate things like  pocket-watches and  handkerchieves.

I have the perfect selections for a capsule wardrobe but what would I do without the 4 giant sweatshirts I never wear? Or the wool sweater I’m allergic to with the giant gnome embroidered on the front? I’ve been entering contests to get a day with an interior decorator who destroys your rented apartment and puts nice trinkets in it that your guests will pick up and think to themselves “Huh, that’s neat…why don’t I have a tin elephant waving a dandelion on my coffee table?”

Yeah, why don’t you?

Hopefully by the end of the week my closet will be 87 pounds lighter and I can turn it into one of those 2×4 reading nooks that you need to leave the door open to or else you’ll lose oxygen after the first chapter.

Okay, it’s time for my 6:30pm ice cream break! K love you bye.