yesterday started out as an epic fail. i painted my one-a-day, but i hated it. i drank too much coffee, and got all fried out. i was cold, and couldn't get warm. the fire wouldn't start. i felt too whiny to make breakfast. for some reason, i felt paralyzed, helpless against the weight of the world, in an over-dramatic, woah is me sort of way. and i guess, when it all came around, it was the usual gripe, the house is dirty, i miss my mom, and life is just sooo overwhelming. yet somehow, magically (but just like every other time), the gentle coaxing of james and his total dedication to making things better turned the ship around, and by two o'clock we had managed to get going on some very necessary household management duties. we spent the remainder of the day cleaning and sorting piles, the piles that grow when you're just too damn busy trying to make a buck to spend any time on yourself. spinning john prine and drinking cranberry wine, we sorted and swept and sucked the corners clean until we had made a serious dent in what sometimes seems like the bain of my existence: stuff. and still, there's more where that came from! who needs an armless mannequin? a revolving darkroom door? a kid-sized mattress? or an old chaise lounge? certainly not me. now, if i could only find the time to figure out what to do with it all.