Story of my life. Ugh, I hate that phrase, but it is fitting, as “There is no space for this!” as an exclamation to everything added to my life is an accurate portrayal of my responses to new shit in my life, good or bad.
Now though, it is literal. I don’t have any space for anything new.
No. It is not because it is messy. It is messy, but that is because I am, at heart, a crafter, so my desk is a perpetual struggle for available surfaces. I am frankly quite systematic, and also often a “thrower”, and I still don’t have enough space. The apartment I live in isn’t small, seventy five square metres isn’t small for three people, (it is for five, I know from experience) but we still cannot find space for so much of what we have. And it is going to get worse. My nanna lived in a three story, 180 sq.m. house till the day she died, which is four or so months ago. A third of that now belongs to my mother.
Yes. There is more to come.
It frustrates me, it frustrates me so, so much, and I feel like most of the small, awful problems I face day to day would be fixed if only there wasn’t such a lack of space.
Ah. Rambling, and not doing anything productive. Like editing those photos I took of Draco a month or so ago. Yes, I did take pictures I said, but they are still unedited and grungy and not at all how I want them, so they are not up yet. Ugh.

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