I'm with him

I have made no progress. And last time I checked (one second ago), the clock was still ticking.

My favorite idea so far came from my cousin Anne, who said, "Wear one of those t-shirts that has a big arrow on it and says 'I'm with him.'" It could work, especially if I'm standing next to Leo DiCaprio.

I've been obsessing about what to wear to an apres-ski party for 17 days, yet have produced no tangible results. I've been utterly unproductive. Therefore, I'm not thinking about it anymore.

This frightened me at first, but then I remembered that the best things happen when you don't think about them happening. Keenan Brown never gave me his chocolate pudding at lunch when I wished he would. I can never draw a perfect heart when I concentrate. Not once have I ever lost weight on a diet.

Likewise, I can't possibly expect to find something fancy schmancy to wear to a fancy schmancy party if I'm actually looking for it.

Things happen when you let them go.

So I'm not looking. I'm not waiting. I just am. Exhale apres-ski wear stress.

Kitty Bouldin, zen housewife Virginia Yodi master, I am. Proud of me, you are. Humble bow.

Anyway, InStyle suggests that the perfect thing already lives in my closet. That could very well be true, and I could very well find it if only I could open my closet without an avalanche happening on my head.

I knew there was a problem I could solve in there somewhere. Tonight (or maybe tomorrow night, but most certainly before Thursday night) I'm going to clean out my closet. Instead of buying a new pair of pants or a sexy, snazy top, I'm going to buy a hanging holder for my shoes and some place to neatly store my sweaters. And then, something wonderful will happen.

If it doesn't, at least I'll come home to a clean closet.