I just had a small epiphany. I realize that I'm often pretty sure of myself on the inside, but not the outside. With my home, it seems exactly the opposite. And even more so now.
We've just completed a laundry list of exterior "curb appeal" improvements. The front (with the exception of my poor little Malus, which I think was planted and bermed up a bit too high by the original landscaper, and isn't a happy camper these days) looks really, REALLY good. And the back, in spite of it being a messy, weedy "habitat" as my dear gardening friend declared, still has lots of successes in it.
Oh, but the inside...Yes, I can use the "excess of family material" excuse. But really, it's not where I want it to be. I want to actualize my exceptional home. The one filled with uniqueness all it's own. NOT cluttter. And that's what it seems to have a lot of.
Kinda like my body. There's a uniqueness to my inner self: artist, writer, actor, creative being. But the outside? That really belies what's inside.
I think if I can merge and purge, maybe I'll become the woman I've always been - both inside and out.
Now, back to the house cleaning...inside.
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