Details

I have a confession.

I am all about the big picture. I detest the details. With a flaming, riotous passion. I would have mentioned it in the 10 random things below, but well...it's a detail I casually skipped over. I'd rather have my chai latte, thanks.

And so I'm making an early resolution: I'm hereby and officially making karmic restitution for the details I've skipped over in my life.

Why? Oh come on, details details. Oh wait. Karmic Restitution. Fine. I hereby (yada, see above...damn it) because I realized over the weekend that I've missed a LOT of great things thanks to my crybaby whinyass itty-bitty problem with the details.

My predicament is this: I could be doing other things, instead of focusing on the details. Bigger things. Like...um...getting somewhere faster, and er...doing more stuff. Yeah. Those things. But I realized that just because you get to the top of the mountain, doesn't mean you've enjoyed the trip. I'm always looking for the next best thing instead of focusing on the HERE AND NOW. So I miss a lot of things. Details.

I cleaned my kitchen before I left for the Bahamas. But when I got home, it looked disgusting to me. I mean filthy. And it's all because of the little things. The goo spilling down the white cabinets that I glanced over. Yeah, it's gross. I told you I hate to clean. Then there's also the toaster oven and the microwave that never get moved when I wipe down the counters. Trust me that I found some icky ass shit under my ever-so-trusty appliances.

So I've decided I've had enough. I took everything off the counter and wiped it all down. I even took apart the spice rack because it looked dusty. Hey, what? I don't cook either. I wiped down all the cabinets. Hell I even cleaned out the fridge. Horrors!! Run for your lives! The moldy things LIVE!!!! I would have taken pictures, but I thought I'd spare you the monstrosities of my kitchen.

The bliss I felt afterwards was better than sex. Seriously. If being a little cleaner is all it takes to make me that high, look the fuck out world. I have (insert name brand) cleaner and a sponge, and I will scrub with fury! Then again, maybe I just need more sex.

Now, if only I can apply this to my knitting...

That Backyard Leaves scarf is totally calling my name, but I can already feel it giving me a headache.