Something happens to me in the Spring. Maybe it’s because it’s my birthday season, but I start to feel crowded and aware of all the memories junk memories laying around. I mainly write at the kitchen table with stacks of stuff around me. Notebooks, books, balloons, Monopoly money. (The product links in this post are Amazon affiliate links, I make a small commission if you make a US or UK purchase through them. Read my disclosure here.) Last week, I came…
I’m not claustrophobic or anything, but I’m beginning to think our place is too small. It isn’t really; we just have too much junk. I could speak only for myself, but I won’t. A few weeks ago, Sarge spent a day or two making the Reading Room look, well, like a room. He put photos up and everything. One of them is actually a collage, because I have a crafty cousin who does that sort of thing. I do not.…

