What is this "uncertainty" that borders on "excitement" at the very thought of opening the files, albums, boxes, etc that are in the photo closet? Did I really open the door? The glass door knob slipped an extra turn and I almost turned tail and ran. The memorabilia seems endless. And this does not count the photo boxes that are stacked neatly in the guest room on the multi-level shelves. You know, those pretty flowery boxes that are supposed to somehow set organization into motion.
And what am I doing right now - taking pictures of the pictures!!! What is wrong with this picture?