Patience

 I was on a tremendous roll.  I cleaned the garage!  I got Emma to go through the last boxes in her room!  

(The best strategy is to hold stuff up to her and have her say yes or no.  If she hesitates, it's a no.  She said it was helpful to have me there. She got rid of more stuff because she didn't want me to judge her.  I said, "I am not judging you!"  She said no, it's a good thing.)

The next stop on my organizing and cleaning up train was the pantry.  It was tolerable until Mark came home and there was an explosion of gluten free stuff to squish in will all the glutinous stuff.  Add the Capri suns (which he has in case of low blood sugar) and it was a hot mess.

I ordered some stackable drawers from Amazon.  I even measured in a rare act of responsibility and they were going to fit perfectly.  They were set to arrive from Amazon yesterday.  I pulled everything out of the pantry.  I got rid of some stuff and consolidated other stuff.  I made piles.  I waited for the stackable drawers that were going to be the answer to everything that ailed the pantry.

I got this email:

Meanwhile the kitchen looked like this:

I felt woeful.  Mark was home from work.  I wailed down the stairs, "I need you!"  

He said, "OK," in a sort of alarmed way, but not that alarmed because he is used to me overreacting.

I showed him the email and the kitchen.  He said "OK" again (because he is even-keeled like that) and we put everything back in the pantry in a slapdash way.

Earlier in the day, I'd seen this:

I don't have patience, I'm just glad to see what it is....