A Conundrum - Interior Monologue for Sunday Writing Essential
Why on earth can’t I even give it a go?
The very thought of it gets my brain into a dizzy spin. I don’t really want to think about it. I’d much rather go for a walk. Talk to trees and birds in the trees and on telegraph poles.
But now that I’m asked by Doug to write an interior monologue, perhaps this exercise could serve as an incentive to devise a plan. A plan that might, just might work this time.
I’ve already read a self-help book. Great read. Laughed out loud. Found myself on every page. Did ten minutes of what the book advised. That was it, so I’m not going to read that book again. At least not from A to Z.
Anyway, I need to find MY way of doing this. Perhaps only thirty minutes every day. 'Every day’ is the key word. I’ll stick a reminder note on my bathroom mirror.
But where shall I start?
Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, wardrobe, cupboards, drawers, bookshelves, letters, postcards, Christmas cards, photos, old records and audio cassettes, birthday cards, ribbons, buttons of all sizes in various colours…one day I might need one just like this little pink one. I’m beginning to feel a heat rush around my ears, now climbing to my head... I'll make myself a nice cup of tea...
What about a professional organiser?
Yeah, not a bad idea. How much would it cost, I wonder? I probably couldn’t afford her. Besides, I wouldn’t really want anyone standing over me, forcing me to throw out my precious stuff, putting my heart through the shredder.
Am I then condemned to be found buried under piles of paper and stuff?
This is a serious matter. Just thinking about its enormity is twisting my gut into knots, for that’s where the brain is, in the gut, that’s what my doctor said and that’s why he put me on the gluten-free diet and gave me a tablet to take with every meal to properly digest all protein to keep my gut free of unwanted residue because that residue clouds the brain. Well, the fog in the brain has gone, but why can’t I get my head around this business of decluttering?
Stuff, stuff, stuff, stuff…everywhere I look.
I’m having a panic attack! Oh yes, it’s a panic attack all right. I can recognise the symptoms, I’ve had one before. I’m not scared, I know what to do: breathe in, hold your breath, count to eight, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, now breathe out counting to eight and repeat until relaxed.
Bingo! The little Pink Button! That’s exactly what I could tackle first, my sewing box – the microcosm of my home. Phew, I feel better now.
Tomorrow I’ll do the sewing box…for the third time!
© irina dimitric 2012 "rigorous critique wnated"