Kicking Justin Out

Yes, that’s right.

My feeling the least bit hospitable is over.

I’m done.

With him and all his junk.

He has to go.

Justin has created chaos in my home, and I’m sick of it.

Have you ever had someone in your life like that?

Not for very long, I’m thinking.  You probably got more sense.

Me?  It took me a while, playing nice, being accommodating.  Giving him more and more room to stretch out.  “Oh you need another drawer?  Okay let me see.”  “Hmmm.  All that stuff too.  Okay, well let me run by and see what I can find in the way of storage containers, okay?”

If you don’t already know it y’all, storage containers are of that “ol’ debil.”  Buying more stuff to keep your stuff?


And yet I’ve done it.  Justin talked me into it.  With his sweet words and promises that one day I’ll be glad I did let him and his stuff stick around.

Justin.  Forget it.  I’m tired of your lies.  It’s going to be hard, but I’m evicting you.  You have lived here long enough.

Y’all remember Justin, right?

Justin Case.

I have drawers and baskets and storage tubs with things belonging to him.

Keep this sock just in case you find the other one.  (Not going to happen.  EVER.  I think the dryer monster that never seemed to be at Mama’s came over to my house and started breeding with the one already here.  I can’t buy enough socks to clothe my people and feed the Sock Monster family.  I can’t keep up.)

Keep this broken piece of plastic thingy.  You might find whatever on earth it fell off of and maybe you might can possibly glue it back on and it might just work.  Maybe.  Probably not, but there’s always a chance, so…..

Keep this sweater belt to that sweater you gave away years ago even though you couldn’t find the belt.  Oh no, you’ll never get that sweater back nor will you find the person with it to give the belt too, but one day you might need this.  For someTHING.

See, how he talks fancy to me.  My head starts to spin and I nod and give him space for whatever he wants me to keep.  Justin Case.

But.  NO.  MORE.

There’s nothing like a fresh coat of paint in a lovely warm new color to make you want to straighten up and fly right.  I’m taking my time putting things back in place.  I’m telling Justin he’s out of here and I’m not taking no more of his suggestions and sweet talk and messing with my mind.  (Yes, it’s a double negative, which might negate the meaning normally, but where I come from it only reiterates the NOT and NO–doubly positive–I’m done with this.)

The lovely warm "Autumn Moon" walls that have inspired me to get my act together.  Ignore the foolishness on the table.  Working through that.  It's Justin's.  He's taking it with him.
The lovely warm “Autumn Moon” walls that have inspired me to get my act together. Ignore the foolishness on the table. Working through that. It’s Justin’s. He’s taking it with him.

Oh my.  Easier said than done.  He teams up with his best girl–Mem Ree Layne.  When I tell him no, he winks at her and pats her on her shoulder, and then I have to deal with her.   Mem Ree is a powerful girl, especially where I’m concerned.  I could be a hoarder of things that bring back stories and tears and laughter.  I might just be.  And Mem Ree knows this and reminds me of those times just when I’m ready to drop a piece of paper or a list or a trinket in the trash or giveaway pile.  Justin tells her to tell me I’d better keep something just in case I start to forget.  Good gravy she’s good. They’re a really good team.  But not good for me.

What I’m trying to tell Mem (she lets me call her that when I’m on her good side) and myself is that it’s okay.  My memory of that person I love, of that time we were together, of the laughter, the tears, the joy–my memories are not tied into that someTHING in my hand.  Not at all.  I have them in my heart.  Which doesn’t tend to get as cluttered.  Not very often.  So I can keep things there for quite a while without too much of an adverse affect.

I have a little over a week, y’all.  Before the paintbrush is back at it, transforming another room.  I need to get things cleared and moved around so it can happen.  It’s time.  Seven years of marks and handprints and dents and smudges and pencil marks–it’s past time.  And after years and years of cohabitating, it’s time I make an honest and well-kept woman out of myself.

Justin,  Justin Case, it’s not me, it’s you.  You.  Got. To. Go.

And honestly, I think Mem will be much sweeter and kinder and supportive if he’s not around. So she can stay.  For now.

Wishing you all freedom from Justin and his foolishness.

Love to all.




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