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This afternoon I ran out to the grocery store to pick up a couple things for dinner. Totally normal, not anything out of the ordinary. When I came back, I walked into a semi-intervention, staged by my lovely boyfriend. He took the liberty of stacking every magazine I own on the dining room table, separated by issue and type. It was astonishing, even for me. Now I know exactly how those addicts on Intervention feel when they walk into the room and realize they're not really there to give their 'final interview'. Ouch. I took a picture of the entire table (by standing on a dining room chair) that I'm too mortified to post here.

I subscribe to a (generous) handful of magazines, which I really enjoy reading, especially while at the gym. The problem I have is getting rid of them (obviously). There's always a recipe, an exercise routine, or a pair of shoes that makes me dog ear the corner and hold on to it for later. Much later. Like years. Scary. Well, today I faced my hoarder-like tendencies and purged a huge chunk of my magazine stockpile. They went out with the recycling. I neatly organized and stacked the issues I allowed myself to keep and now I feel a lot better. I guess sometimes you just have to get ambushed! Talk about a productive Sunday.