I ate at a restaurant called Cafe Gratitude a few weeks ago. As I walked out, I saw a painting above a doorway that read: "Abundance can be had simply by consciously receiving what has already been given.".
If that's true, I've consciously received so much food and alcoholic beverage over the last several weeks that I am now experiencing a personal, physical abundance. Most evident in the southern regions of my body, but really, my whole self is like gravy, thickening up nicely with just a few lumps.
I sit on the couch and things come to mind as follows: Stuffed sausage. A puffer fish. The Michelin Man.
And yet, rather than start an internal cleanse today, I cleaned the house. Gone are the dry, prickly fire hazards that once were fragrant boughs of pine on the mantel. Off with the stale gingerbread abodes covered in frosting and every kind of candy ever made. Goodbye dog hair dust bunnies (until the puppy comes back in from the yard), and so long bits of tape, donut and bread crumb.
As I sit at a now more-clean-than-sticky kitchen table, I realize it's probably time for some sort of mental cleanse as well. Sometimes I feel like there is so much information in my head that if I use a Q-tip in the right way, I could dislodge some of it and let it tumble right out of my ear. Let's be serious, most of it is useless, and what I do need, often buries itself under Journey or Adam Ant* lyrics.
So in order for me to get to the important things, like remembering to find a new babysitter next month (i.e., in three days or so), or getting a new calendar and writing everyone's birthdays and anniversaries on it before July hits, it's time to purge some gunk.
Now, if you are reading this with pencil in hand, waiting for my pearls of wisdom on how to organize and prioritize your brain and all the information in it, go ahead and break the lead. If I had those pearls, I wouldn't have started this cathartic blog. I'd be too busy digitizing my mental files and writing thank you notes to friends who haven't even bought the gifts they are going to give me in 2012.
If any of you dear readers have a brain more filo faxed than mine, please stop hoarding your mad skills and start sharing your special tricks with me and my good friends, Carbohydrate and Sugar.
*To the younger readers who have no idea who or what Adam Ant is, A) you're cute as a button, and B) this is precisely what Google is for. Look it up. I'll share something you won't find on Google - a visual of me in junior high, throwing my AAA bra at Mr. Ant while he performed valiantly for us at Magic Mountain. It hit him on his left shoulder. Yes, I was that girl. Also, yes, I can remember this, but the passcode to my iPhone eludes me.