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Simple Steps to Finally Get Rid of Those Boxes
This one might strike a nerve, amigos. Or three. But since I can’t see you and you can’t reach me… we gonna get down the nitty-gritty of our containers. Yes, those containers. His, hers, mine and yours. The cardboard boxes… the plastic bins… the forgotten… the ignored… all of it. So here’s the question on the awkward table between us: If God impressed upon your heart a move—across town, across the country, to another country—how soon could you pack up and get out? I don’t want to be known for my stuff. But if I’m in a constant state of avoiding piles, adding more boxes to the rafters and…
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Excuses I’ve Told Visitors for $300, Alex
I’ve racked my brain, but can’t recall a time I have ever walked into a guy’s house and listened to him trip over his tongue in an effort to tell me all the reasons why his dwelling looks messy, dirty, or both. The home of a woman though? Different story. Every time I’m in a friend’s house and she starts going on about why there are messes, I want to grab her shoulders and say, “Relax. It’s okay that your nail clippers landed on the coffee table, beach towels are in the kitchen and dozens of unread magazines rest by your bed. You live here.” And then someone comes to…
