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Glue

Today’s ten-watt bulb is that no one is grading my life on how tidy it is. No one is grading my life at all, but I’m not entirely prepared to give up my personal paranoia about the people with the clipboards. I’ll save that lightbulb for another day.

I have to learn the same lessons over and over. While I do require a certain amount of order (and more than many people seem to) in order to function, I can make messes. Messes are creative. I find this most intuitively in the kitchen, where messes and I inevitably intersect. I spill things and drip things. I never bake in black clothes and I have an apron that covers pretty much everything. No amount of care on my part will change the laws of kitchen physics, so I simply try to remember to clean up. Besides, cookies soothe the hearts of even the most intense neat freaks.

Every once in a while, the urge to make a collage comes over me. Usually I just wait it out. Collage is messy. I always end up with little shards of paper everywhere. Also glue in places where glue does not belong. I try to resist the collage habit as well, because nothing leads to clutter like a collage habit. NO! Don’t throw away those magazines and catalogs! Collage! Those photos with everyone looking possessed? Collage! That box, label, sticker, can tab? Mine! For collage!

But what if I don’t wait it out this time? What if I take all the little pieces of detritus and glue them together into something interesting, a life, say?

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