So this is poetry?

"Clutter is the poetry of our homes. It is an intimate view that is not always perfect--a few dishes in the sink, books piled next to the bed. Everything in it's place may give a certain satisfaction but a lived-in room exudes comfort and warmth."

Mary Randolph Carter

author of

The Perfectly Kept House is the Sign of a Misspent Life

Recently, I was thrown this lifeline from a friend on Facebook. I knew that ginormous social networking site would one day become truly meaningful to me. I just didn't know when. Unintentionally finding out intimate details of people's lives such as pictures of broken body parts or last night's dinner, who is attending Sarah Palin speeches at Wal-Mart, or when Grandma last had a bowel movement were certainly things I never dreamed I'd be discovering when I tip-toed onto Facebook. But this...this quote has meaning for me and now Ms. Carter has my money because the title alone is all it takes for me to seek out her book.

Anyway, the piles. Oh yes. My piles- clothes, papers, books, art supplies, dishes, music, recipes, Legos, and did I mention papers and books? Who knew they were creating warmth and atmosphere and not just dust and angst and frustration? And sweat! Yes- you know from moving said piles around? I will look at them differently now. With more kindess and curiosity and even warmth. Each little or big pile represents some aspect of my life and that is certainly worth a poem. Or two. I am a poem. Who knew? Did Erma Bombeck write poetry? Hmmm....At any rate, my life contains poetry which means I am really living which means I am piling. Guests won't need to fear-- I know how to make them feel quite comfortable.