Nature abhors a vacuum. And I can't stand a white wall.

A couple of weeks ago, as part of (some clearly misguided) spring cleaning, I switched up the art that's been hanging on my living room walls about 5 years. ...It had become so permanent there were yellowed spots where the three biggest shapes hung, just behind the couch.

After the yellow spots... and the nail holes... the thing that suddenly jumped out at me was, gee, I have really white walls. Really LONG, really white walls.

The crazy part of this effort -- crazy to the "normal" people, I mean -- is that there was nothing wrong with the art where it was. It looked pretty good, by most accounts. I was just beyond bored with it.

So I moved the "couch art" to the mantel and schemed a new collection of things behind the couch. ...That I was gonna get RIGHTON!

And now, almost three weeks later, I still have an impossibly long, pockmarked, yellowed white wall to fill. With no clear action plan for how to fill the void.

I don't know why I do these things, but I do. Do them. All the time. I make my own life HARDER instead of EASIER. I plan big then procrastinate long. It's a pretty deadly combination. And -- this gets even weirder -- even though I know I have these defeating tendencies, I persist in thinking positive thoughts about my self-inflicted change. I keep thinking I'm JUST ABOUT to have a breakthrough. In which I will make things all magically better than ever. Sure. Yes. Just as soon as the little birds and field mice respond to my Cinderella warbling and show up to help. I KNOW better than to start something I can't finish right away. I drive myself NUTS. But I also know I have to push car into the lane, sometimes, before it will start. Got a weird alternator, or something. And I really do HATE that white wall. So change is coming. Soon. Probably, hopefully.