Every time I open a box I have this feeling a cold dread wash over me. Where is it al going to fit? How can I ask Mom to get rid of one more thing? I stand and sweat and feel the bile rise in my throat. Where did this box come from? I swear I had unpacked all of out bedroom boxes! Yet, I know that I still haven't found my yellow sweater. How is this possible? Will we ever be able to park cars in the garage???
I just wish I could follow my own advice that I bestow on my son pretty much every five minutes. Relax. Take a deep breath. Go cool off and come back when you're ready. BUt every time I think I should do that I look at the box and think, "If I spend the next 10 minutes cooling off, how will this box ever get unpacked?" And I just motor forward.
So, I guess I will go ahead and panic and then later I'll take a deep breath and say, "At least that's over."
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