It is 9:08 on and I'm lying in bed about to crack open my latest novel. Sure, the house isn't as tidy or clean as it could be, but it's good enough for me. I'm sure there's something productive I could be doing, yet I don't feel like I have to.
I'm sure it's a combination of many things, but I can't help feel that the circumstances most at play here are:
-smaller living space
I do love getting involved in all.the.things but moving has been a welcome break from a few outside commitments that had run their course for me. It feels good to be "off."
The other two go hand in hand, I suppose. Downsizing from 2500 square feet to around 1350 has its merits and demerits, but one that I see as a positive is that you just can't have as much stuff. We got rid of an embarrassingly large amount of stuff this year, and we still have plenty of excess (look in our garage!). I do feel like we're making slow but steady progress in taking charge of our excess. It's so nice to sit down to read without feeling like I need to clean or organize or sort or move things. I feel lighter. I've still got plenty of work to do in this area, but I do notice less stress with less stuff in every corner, and I love that we are being forced to be more intentional.
And now I shall commence the reading.