Image by KellyK via Flickr That's All There Is Too, It. I have just weirded myself out. Just been a little too strange, even for me.
I am sitting on the recliner in my bedroom and tooling around on the freeways of the Internet when I look up. Suddenly, my unmade bed has become mountains and valleys, fissures and clefts of blanket and sheet. I clearly see space between the mass of cloth and my bookcase. The pile of loosely tossed and folded clothes has soft ridges and mountaintops ululating and undulating. I am just stunned by the patterns of my disorder. The picture to my right is a lot more orderly than my bed.
I called my hubby and shared my weirdness. It's just too strange to be me. Really, who gets fascinated by an unmade bed and an ungainly pile of laundry.
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