What I really need now is ideas

As long as I'm on a thread of discussing childhood defects, I might as well mention that I also used to be insanely afraid of change. For most of my Piaget-approved developmental childhood, the Martin's lived in a house on Whittington Lane that I mentally still consider Home. The crazy Italian family who owned Home before us carpeted the entire upstairs in what can be diplomatically called unconventional shades of green. It was awesome, in an accepting, "I want to feel like I live in a tree" kind of way, and I was really emotionally disturbed when we replaced it. I could pretend my angst was because I, in my preoperational stage, sensed that replacing such originally colored flooring with Suburban Beige was selling the hippie free spirit of crazy Italians for the official color of the PTA. In actuality, the prospect of having a different, new substance under my feet - the idea of having anything around me that was in any way a variation from what I was comfortable with - was just terrifying, for reasons I can't quite remember now.

Even though I had my dad take a picture of me hugging my car before it got traded, my attachment issues are largely gone. I'm willing to throw out knick knacks, delete music files, and repaint walls with a rationale and ambivalence that would have seemed appallingly callous to Linda Age 7. I even try new entrees at restaurants where I already know of a dish that I definitely like. It seems like an important character advancement to me. Now that I have to say goodbye to things like friendships and lifestyles, I feel like I've had practice.

Things I Plan to Do Over Winter Break:
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- Not work.