I’m a stained glass artist. When people ask what I do, I sometimes joke that I "play with broken glass." It’s a flip-sounding line for a deeply intentional art form. The truth is, when I break a sheet of glass, I do so with immense care. My cutter, slick with special oil, scores a precise…
And the Preacher Said, “Amen.”
Every year, come late May, I get this… twitch. It’s an undeniable, deep-seated urge to purge. Suddenly, my closets look like they’re staging an intervention, the basement is giving me side-eye, and I’m eyeing that dusty box of “sentimental” (read: questionable) belongings with the cold calculation of a seasoned decluttering ninja. For years, I just…