Welcome to the Funny Farm by Karen Scalf Linamen Read Free Book Online Page A

one. Something you could have prevented, maybe still can. I have two things to say to you:
    First, you’re not too late. Getting ahold of whatever is ailing your spirit today—no matter how long it’s gone on—is terrific prevention against creating more sorrow for yourself tomorrow.
    Second, whenever it is you jump in and say, “This is it! I’m going to get ahold of this attitude/affair/addiction/habit/feud/temptation right now before it goes unchecked another minute!” (whether you say it when you’ve merely lost control of your thoughts or whether your actions have jumped into the fray as well), one thing doesn’t change: You’re loved just the same with a passionate love by a holy God.
    My friend Linda once told me, “I’m just now realizing how much God loves me, and that there’s nothing I can do—NOTHING—that will diminish that love.”
    I said, “Then why not just live however we want? Why worry about holding back?”
    Linda said, “Because I don’t want the wounds that sin creates in my life.”
    Yeah, those wounds. I’ve had them. They’re no fun. And, if you ask me, that’s the best reason of all to buy an ounce of prevention. But as for God’s love, well, that never wavers. And if I end up needing that pound of cure after all, he loves me even then.
    As for Walter, he’s feeling much better, thanks for asking. In fact, I’m so stirred up by all this “ounce of prevention” stuff that I’ve taken a few steps to keep Walter from future ailments.
    He didn’t seem to mind the vitamins, but trust me when I tell you he’s not at all happy about the mittens.

14

    Clutter Management 101
    I’ M GETTING T HE U RGE AGAIN.
    It hits me every year. Maybe it’s brought on from thumbing through Target ads and seeing all the plastic storage boxes and closet dividers on sale.
    But whatever the reason, every January I get this urge to organize my home.
    Some years, I’ll admit, I take two aspirin and watch reruns of Sanford and Son until The Urge goes away (I suspect this is because, compared to their home, mine looks like it belongs between the covers of Better Homes and Gardens ).
    But other years I get really motivated and make an effort to tame the jungle of clutter in my home.
    Of course, this is easier said than done. Sometimes I get the feeling my house is a little like the Eagles’ Hotel California: Things check in but they don’t check out. (Or is that the Roach Motel? I can never remember!) What kinds of things? How about clothes that haven’t been in style since I had to have my pet rock put to sleep, or my collection of Barry Manilow songs—on eight track—or the two dozen plaques I own that try to assure me that “A Messy Desk Is the Sign of a Creative Mind” (all gifts from friends who know me a little too well).
    The only good thing about clutter is that, indeed, one woman’s junk is another woman’s treasure. One month I managed to clean out two closets and hold a garage sale. I made $400. (I figure if I clean out the rest of my closets I can probably put one of my children through college.)
    I’m not sure where all the clutter comes from. Oh sure, junk mail is a big chunk of it. Happy Meal toys comprise another large portion. Half-used tubes of abandoned makeup and facial care products are another hefty category. And what about those wire hangers? Have you ever once in your life actually purchased a wire hanger? Me neither. I always buy the plastic tube hangers.
    So why, even as we speak, are my closets being held hostage by legions of hostile wire hangers?
    I have this theory. I have a theory that while my house looks, on the outside, like a perfectly normal single-family dwelling, there are, in reality, sinister forces at work here. I have reason to believe that my house has been hexed and, as a result, any family who lives within these