A couple of years ago my cousin enlarged a photo of his son. It was a nice photo, but it wasn't his son... it was mine. They gave it to me.
I bought a frame and had plans to add a little paint, some text torn from an old Bible, maybe that lock of hair I cut off Grom's adorable baby head... and every time I thought about making time to work on it, I hesitated. I was afraid of messing it up. Actually I was afraid I'd finish it and have to put it on a wall. I said it was a nice picture. It wasn't great and I had no emotional connection to it.
In a fit of decluttering, I threw it away. It felt great.
8 done... 93 to go
I bought a frame and had plans to add a little paint, some text torn from an old Bible, maybe that lock of hair I cut off Grom's adorable baby head... and every time I thought about making time to work on it, I hesitated. I was afraid of messing it up. Actually I was afraid I'd finish it and have to put it on a wall. I said it was a nice picture. It wasn't great and I had no emotional connection to it.
In a fit of decluttering, I threw it away. It felt great.
8 done... 93 to go
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