iT'S FiVe THiRTy a.M.

And i can't sleep. i figured I'd come down here and write a blog post and that would bore me into the sleep that I need. It's probably because i'm on a steriod and antibiotic for this ear inrection that I've got ... and I just noticed something else. I can't spell either. Funny. I never realized that I stop learning how to spell correctly when I'm tired or can't sleep or if it's too early in the a.m. I feel I am concentrating too hard on the wrods, (See?) that I'm not sure will come.

I need some major decluttering in my life. There's just too much stuff right now. The visible AND the invisible.

The visible is the stuff that clutters the house, gets in the way of the core of whatever it is that's bothering me. It's not unhappiness. It's definitely not that. I'm happy. I'm just unsettled.

Mr. Manic has been traveling every week since he lost his job and started this consulting gig in May. I won't lie, those of you who deal with it weekly too, know it's hard, it's a pain in the ass.

He comes home, and we all have to shift to the way we were, only to get used to one another again and have him leave. It's weird. Am I getting used to sleeping alone? (Or rather, with a younger smaller person next to me, because I've been shifting kids through my bed when he's not here. But that will stop when school starts.)

I finally, FINALLY! cleaned the laundry room last night. It's been a throw-all for anything and everything that has come through this house since the beginning of June. Bins for each kid - throw in their crap - I don't even care what it is, just get it out of my sight.

Next up - my bedroom, the drawers, the closet. All the clothes that don't fit, because I've also cluttered my body the past three-and-a-half months. I don't know what happened. Of course, I'm lying, I totally know what happened. It's not that I stopped caring about what I was eating. I just kept eating. I really cared about what I was eating and what I could get into my gut.

I do this a lot. Many, many times in fact over the past 8 years. I discover I'm not at a happy weight, go to Weight Watchers, diet, or at least count points and stay within what I'm supposed to, and then lose the weight. Then I get comfortable, and I let myself believe it won't happen again. It does. It's like a game. Do I enjoy doing this? This Yo-Yo that has become my life?

And I'm not writing the way I need to be writing. This damn novel is in my head. It needs to be on the screen. I have an agent. I have the support. I just need to find the uncluttered time to focus on the dream that I have. When will I find it? Every year it is the exact same. I wait for school to start, and tell myself, "Self, you will get into a routine and write that novel when you have the time when the kids are in school." Then other stuff gets in the way, and I tell myself at summertime, "OK, you're going to do this now." This is just, exactly just like the Yo-Yo dieting ... I start, I do well, then I stop. I forget about it for a while. And then I try to get back on track.

It's everywhere. In my home, in my marriage, with my kids, with my body, with my mind.

It just all needs to be decluttered.

I think that now it is 5:41 a.m. and that I might go for a bike ride (I DON'T RIDE BIKES!), and let the wind whip at my face and try to do some soul uncluttering.