Where is that Alternate Universe when I need one?

Everything breathes in my world, everything...wild gardens encircle my home, and they are breathing...constantly breathing.  Ok...beetles, bugs, moths, butterflies, toads, frogs, rabbits, birds, plants, water, rocks, soil...whooooooooa...right on!  It all breathes...the Feng Shui way...inhale - exhale - inhale - exhale - inhale - exhale...the life of nature.  And get this... my house also breathes!!!  THAT'S RIGHT...the four walls, furniture, carpet, tile, clothes, appliances, you name it...it's expanding and contracting, inhale - exhale - inhale - exhale - inhale - exhale.

I heard that, and no, I'm not a nut whirling around in the blender.  Page 11, Feng Shui Step By Step by T. Raphael Simons...Chi..."Chi is sometimes described as the cosmic breath...Everything breathes and moves in accord with it.  Everything comes from it, exists through it, and returns to it." 

Happiness abounded in my corner of the world until this book enlightened me to all my numerous frailties and compounded fallacies.  Chapter read, exercise completed, information added to personal data chart.  The more I read, the more discontent I grow.  The more discontent I grow, the more my little black cloud begins to billow up and shed some drops of rain.  My life's raining on my own parade.

My dwelling is a hoarder of malcontent, a breeder of discord, reeking of negativity with constant coughs and wheezing.  Fortune of my front door is "a castle falling to ruin", room doors all seem to be ill placed, clutter gathers like flies to garbage, inauspicious window placements (ooooooooo...sounds so mysterious) crowding corners blasting chi from house to outer space, furniture arrangements screaming chaos, and middle-of-house bathroom dooms my whole existence.

My north double indented dining room signifying mental depression, obstructed flow of thought, poor adaptability and anxiety is my marriage corner.  My money corner is a closet...a freakin closet with all that stuff one puts in closets...you know...CRAP.  I de-clutter, it re-clutters, de-clutter, re-clutters, de-clutter, re-clutters...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAck!!!

I've mapped out all eight directional points of house, charted noxious rays and secret arrows,  tabulated color and furniture placement corrections, researched symbolic decorations of symbols, colors, plants, patterns, numbers, and fabricated crystal fixes, yin, yang, pin, pang, din, dang, my head's spinning out of control, tape it up fast before it explodes.

Threw book in garbage, calmed down a bit, then dug it back out again.  Going to try one more time, like I've done all those other times.  The individuality's of all those irregularities and their peculiarities are not going to get the best of me...no way, no how.

Pounced on the marriage corner with a fanatical enthusiasm that should only be reserved for some dork trying to climb back out of the alligator pit.  Systematically introduced a zillion symbolic symbolistic decorative symbols, a mirrored repository of useless artistic gadgets, an interior design to rival House Beautiful and render it shameful and me shameless, sucking my bank account into that black hole of emptiness.

Suggestion to my husband of simply boarding up the closet was met with horrified objections, and proved to make the money corner the bigger of my obstacles.  A row of boxes on the floor, another row on the shelves, and more the shelves above the shelves, piled with stacks of papers and doodads galore.  I need this stuff...can't give up...don't knock my clutter, I was heard to mutter...husband shook his head, ducking flying shoe missile, as he mocked my hoarding skills.

A year it took to thin out that chamber of magnificent clutter, distributing it evenly in well placed receptacles of tasty disguise.  Might be the only closet in existence to possess its very own art collection hanging on its walls and little mirrors abound to bounce that chi around.

This emancipation from our dumpster digs...has it made for a better life, wealthier life, healthier life, happier life?  No million buck lottery win, English gardens contest winning tour, lucky pot of gold, fountain of youth, a full body regeneration, thick curly hair restoration, size 8 Marilyn Monroe figure, ready-made disease-free pets, sexy hot body hired gardener, live-in cleaning machine maid, call from the White House or Ed McMahon.

I approach all my endeavors with reckless abandon, with all my heart and soul, so this is the news I will convey...that within a day of the last of eight artful hangings placed upon that closet wall...husband accepted his big bucks job, and that ain't bad at all.  It's Feng Shui all the way now, babe. I'm rushing to finish up this inspiring awesome anecdote to give me time for another round of de-cluttering the re-cluttering, before I call this evening quits.  Can this, will this, most likely this...oh poop... this is the story of the rest of my life...de-cluttering the re-cluttering.
          

Whoopee do...oh! so sorry......!hallelujah!