As many of you may recall, I am a wiper. I am lulled by the smell of Windex and the process of polishing the counter tops to a sparkly shine soothes me like hot tea with honey comforts a scratchy throat. I also like to sort and organize. There is more delicious pleasure for me to tidy one of the kids out-of-control sock drawers than eating a lollipop. Naturally I’d prefer to do both at once, but I’m just saying, if I had to choose, I’d pair those socks and line ’em up like soldiers in squads by color.

Tonight I found something more satisfying than wiping the kitchen counter after The Husband has made a pancake brunch for the babies. I finally yielded to The Husband’s prodding to categorize the blog. The process demanded that I review each post and sort it by category. It was the virtual equivalent of pairing socks, and prompted the same kind of relief that comes with ferreting a plank out of the corner of your own eye.

The experience was similar to dumping out the contents of a messy drawer onto the floor or watching 17 clowns jump out of a Volkswagon at a circus… Like how in the Big Top did I cram all that junk in there? It helped connect me to my own content as I organized it for easier reader use.

It makes me wish that I could as easily categorize myself.

How cool would it be if my emotions and behaviors came with a Mailbox…

If you wish to access The Mamma, Press 1.
If you wish to access The Wife, Press 2.
If you wish to access Hope & Growth, Press 3.
If you wish to access Blame, Worry or Offense, please stay on the line to find Forgiveness.
If you you hear someone shrieking mindlessly, disconnect immediately, that’s not me.

I categorize blog posts more cleanly than I behave.

My internal counter top is greasy.

If there’s a category for that epiphany, perhaps its Humbled.

There’s a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn’t matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
!