I feel that moving and rearranging objects gives them energy, I honestly do. I feel that Feng Shui is a very real form of magic.
I also feel that I have no actual skills when it comes to Feng Shui-ing the heck out of a room. This doesn’t stop me in the slightest.
Related: P.J. is the (reluctantly) proud owner of a newly upended room. This is a guy, for the record, who likes his socks to go in the exact same place in his drawer each day. And now I’ve gone and shifted where the sock receptacle lives. I understand the stress. I do. I won’t change my ways, but I understand his stress. (Marriage!)
Also related: I was in another mood yesterday. P.J. told me to fix another bookshelf- but I took the anxiety/busywork to a whole ‘nother level and moved the dude’s room around. Because whether or not I’m any good at Feng Shui, the simple(?) act of freeing up my mind while shoving furniture willy nilly is as calming as a stiff drink. (Which I also had. I never claimed to be a marital peach.)
I think we can agree that some nitro-level avoidance is going on here, folks. But I’m downright stoked about the results; if nothing else, my room is clean and organized and feels like somewhere new. Like a hotel! A hotel where someone might also fail to address certain feelings!
But before you start feeling too sorry for P.J. (which you should definitely do at a later time), check out this gem:
This is picture of P.J. as a towheaded lad.
And this is a picture of my (HIS) son Jasper. The coloring’s off, but- yet again- the question of paternity is safe.
So yes, I get final say on all of our housely possessions, but he’s the last word on our kids’ DNA. TALK ABOUT CONTROL ISSUES.
Happy Monday, friends. Go move something around.
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