I painted 5 rooms in my house in the last week. Turns out, it was a sort of therapy. You know, changing what you can and letting go of what you can't and all that jazz. I finished yesterday (thanks to my kids who all loved painting...especially two year old darling...) and felt happy and light, as if I had made some new discover about myself, and maybe I did. I didn't try to put my room together until tonight. For the last four nights, I've slept on my little girl's floor since several rooms were dismantled. Tonight, I was going to sleep in my own bed. I put together a bookshelf and was well on my way to finding my bed, until...



Funny how something so small can take the wind out of my sail. Part of me is in shock. Part of me doesn't care. And I'm a bit sad and tired. So I quit. Sometimes we try to help or do something good, only to have the help or good backfire or hinder. And as irritating or discouraging as it is, Jeffrey Holland had this to say

"If for a while the harder you try, the harder it gets, take heart. So it has been with the best people who ever lived."

So I am going to bed, or floor, for one more night and hope that tomorrow will be more successful than tonight.  And maybe I'll ask Seth to buy me a new bookshelf on his way home from the airport.