The Mess

This is it. The one place I could never get a handle on no matter how hard I tried.

My shed.

Look at it. All innocent and cute, despite the weeds (which I am also not sorry for. They're the only things that grow for me anyway) growing all around it and the mildew (Which I am sorry for, but not to you. To the shed. It's not fair to my property to let it be damaged like that.).

But inside-

I originally wanted this to be a space where I could work out and craft. I had the work out part down for a while. Recorded book, treadmill. Old tv, workout video. Woo! I'm doing so well at keeping this place up!

Then my grandmother gave me her fabric. So I could start quilting. I like sewing and pattern piecing is also fun, so I took it all.

ALL her fabric.

Those bins? Fabric. There are multiple bags under the counter as well.

I started to sort and then I got pregnant and didn't want to do anything. I didn't have anyone to push me to do anything, so I didn't do anything. Well, I still walked, but that was it. So it sat. (I really hope she doesn't read this. She will kill me if she finds out what happened to it.)

Then we needed to start moving stuff around for the baby. The shed became necessary for storage. Soon it was difficult to navigate. I would go in every once in a while and push some stuff around, but halfheartedly and not to very much success.

So the stuff grew as Jeremiah did, both in and out of my tummy. It is mostly usable, seasonal, or sentimental stuff, but there is some trash the garbage men refuse to take away. (They refuse to take the refuse. Ha!)  And now I am left with what you see before you. The Mess. The Mess I can't get rid of because I don't know where to start. The Mess I want to never see again, and yet I also want to plow into with my bare hands and make all better. The mess I can't whirlwind away like I do so often with other messes. The Mess I have grandiose plans for, but obtain so little substance. The Mess that will take more than a day or two to fix, but I know once I do I will be able to do what I want in it with a smile.

The Mess I made.

The Mess I need help with.

The mess I refuse to be sorry for.

God Bless and see you soon.

Joelle

PS. I'm not sorry unless Grandma finds out. Then I'm like the thief who isn't sorry he stole but is very, very sorry he is going to jail.