So, for the past two days Gary and I have been moving furniture around in the girls' room and in our living room. No matter how I set up the rooms, I am not happy. It's as if there is some magnificent solution to the clutter that we have accumulated, but it remains just slightly out of my grasp.
After finding myself disappointed for the third time yesterday, it occurred to me that this attempt at order in my home could be a reflection of some inner turmoil that my subconscious may be dealing with. I decided to stop and meditate on my current place in the universe. Am I happy in my relationship? Definitely. Am I happy being a parent? Absolutely. Do I love my job? For the most part. Are there any problems that I am aware of? Not really. So what is it, then, that escapes my conscious mind, but disturbs my sleep at night?
I went to bed last night still hoping for a light bulb to go off, for some sudden realization to present itself to me. Alas, nothing came. My sleep was interrupted during the night, but not due to an inner conflict. It was my youngest daughter, Anna. Maybe it is she who has a problem, and I am reacting to her sympathetically, unknowingly. She was gassy yesterday...
Despite this situation, I have managed to find an arrangement in both rooms that is suitable to me. For now, anyway.