Messy

Life is messy. Well, for some of us it is. I am messy.  I always have been. As much as I try to have a place for everything, it doesnt take much for the whole system to fall apart.

This might be why I like living and working in small spaces. If organization is key, clearly, Ive learned to pick that lock. Every night when I get into the truck bed, I spend a good 20 minutes housekeeping. Everything gets everywhere. I’m sure it happens as I’m looking for other things.

Every day when I straighten up, I fine tune a little more. My employment of zipties varies in ways I never imagined before. I use them to hold my milk crates together, hold up my curtains, and hang candle lanterns. My other go-to tool in the truck bed is velcro. And, velcro plus a ziptie is a game changer.

I will continue to dial in my camp life. I refolded clothes to fit in my storage boxes the other night. My next step will be to move anything I don’t really use to the cab of the truck for storage. Then, I’ll need to reorganize the stuff in the cab. It feels never ending.

Cleaning up as you go was a mantra I often heard but seldom practiced. My mother used to take Polaroids of my room and put them on the fridge in a vain attempt to shame me. Now, the mess must be bridled. If it gets out of control for more than a day, I could literally be swimming through stuff. In the truck bed.

It’s kind of funny. I’ve reached a time in life where my choices have a way of addressing life-long challenges. This has led me to the conclusion that I wasn’t really a grown up till age 50. Go figure.

Published by Clarisa

Traveler, Writer, Cook, Mariner, Veteran

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