I have been moving furniture all day.  And have driven myself crazy.  I have too many pieces to go in my living room and you can't put twenty pounds of potatoes in a ten pound sack.  Something has to give.  I took one chest I didn't need to the garage.  It's going out.  Gone.

It all started when I decided: that if I was going to play my piano, I had to get it back in here where I walk by it every day.  Right now it is in one of the bedrooms and that isn't working for me.  I attend to the things that  I trip over.  If it is in front of me, I will sit down and play.

Lisa always helps me do this kind of stuff, but she lives in Tulsa and works all week.  And now, she and Becky do estate sales on the weekend.

Rearranging a room is akin to rearranging your life.  We get into such a rut.  And then it becomes comfortable, and changing something upsets your day.  Or your week.

When I was working, with four kids and a husband to feed and keep in clean clothes, every minute of every day was programmed.  I had no free time.  That is just one of the facts of life you live with when you have a big family.  But as they grew up, and left home, there was less to do.

But now, with no kids and no husband, there isn't enough to do to fill up my days, so I protect the things that I am doing with a sense of rigidity--as if I can't do something different.  Probably because if I change something it might leave another block of time that I can't fill.

The mantra of my days now is, "Is there something I can do to help you."  If I can't fill my day up, maybe I can help fill yours?  Maybe that is why God invented grandmothers.  They are available.  They have time.  I have two grandchildren that call me almost every morning.  My job is to listen.  And to be thankful that they love me and want to share their lives with me.

At this stage of life, I have time to help, and time to listen.  That's a good thing.  Maybe I just need to cool it.  Smell the roses.  Type A people don't do that very well.