Grumble

I was sitting on the floor, surrounded by stuff. T-shirts, skirts, books, shoes, electronic gizmos and gadgets were piled around me. On my lap was my backpack. My other bag was already full and I was hoping and praying all of my stuff would fit. That's all it is. Stuff. I folded, arranged, put in, pulled out again, fussed and fumbled.

I also grumbled.

This is not an unfamiliar story. I have too much stuff. In the hurry of finals week I didn't have the time or energy to pack properly. I packed up my backpack one day, believing that I would remember what I put in it. I didn't. Having no time to unpack it to look, I just threw a few more things in the other bag, hoping against hope that I wasn't over-packing. When I arrived home, I realized that hope was in vain.

I grumbled some more.

Then Christmas happened. More stuff. Gift giving and receiving is a nice tradition, but when you already have stuff out the wazoo, the last thing you need is more of it. It's just STUFF. Everywhere. Squished into bags that I'll have to lug around a train station and then unpack tomorrow.

See? I'm still grumbling.

The gray sky outside is very reflective of my mood. I don't want to be grumpy. But not wanting to be grumpy only makes it worse, because you get grumpier at yourself for being grumpy.

Help.