The Art of Doing Nothing (Suspiciously Well)

Disclaimer: This is an AI image! It's crazy how good this is. #mindblown

I’ve entered a new era. The “doing nothing and kinda loving it” era.

The laundry? Resting. Yes, they're washed. Folded? nah. Resting like it’s on PTO. And I have zero cares to give. The house is… fine. A little messy, sure. I call it creative chaos now. It’s my aesthetic.

I read somewhere that creative people are the messiest people. I honestly laughed way too hard because that explains so much. I’m not unorganized, but I call myself pretty artistic. Every pile of clothes, every half-finished project, every notebook buried under receipts. It’s all part of my creative process. Or at least, that’s what I’m going with.

Since it’s just me, my husband, and my daughter at home now — the boys have officially flown the nest — I decided it’s time to claim one of their old rooms and turn it into my dream wardrobe. My own little grown-up playground. I even pulled everything out. The room’s completely empty. It looks like a Pinterest “before” photo.

Did I start planning? Yes. Did I start prepping or buying materials? No and no. The upstairs loft area is now a mountain range of boxes, clothes, and random stuff I swear I’ll “sort later.” My husband said it's organized delusion.

And between ignoring the laundry and stepping over art supplies, it hit me. Maybe I’m having a tiny existential crisis. Like… the peaceful kind. Because I’m not stressing about the mess anymore. I’m enjoying it. I’ll walk by a laundry pile that’s been sitting there for three days and think, “Huh, that’s life, isn’t it?” Then sip my hot tea and move on. Who even am I?

Also, am I a hoarder? Like… an art-supply hoarder? Is there such a thing? I don’t want to end up on that TV show about people going overboard with their “collections.” But every time I think about letting go of an old sketchbook, I get sentimental. Every brush, marker, and scrap of watercolor paper has potential. What if it's my masterpiece? And what if I need it one day? Or what if I wake up inspired? I keep telling myself I’m not a hoarder, I’m simply prepared for when the creative juices start flowing. I just happen to have, you know, everything I might need… later.

The old me would’ve been stressed. I’d be running around, folding things, deep-cleaning, trying to make everything perfect before anyone could see the mess. But the new me? I’m chilling. Walking past that laundry pile like it’s part of the decor.

And you know, it feels peaceful. Like I’m finally okay with the world not being perfectly in order all the time. Maybe that’s growth. Or maybe it’s me being tired. Hard to say.

It’s weird though. Doing nothing used to make me feel guilty. Now it feels like freedom. I used to have this voice in my head saying, “You’re wasting time!” Now that voice is like, “Girl, we’ve been doing the most for many years. Sit down.”

So here I am. Sitting in my semi-messy house, surrounded by half-finished plans, calling it “balance.” The wardrobe room will happen when it happens. The laundry can take a nap. The art supplies can rest easy. I’ll keep doing nothing until it feels like something again.

If you need me, I’ll be in the loft pretending to plan while scrolling Pinterest, ignoring the chaos around me, and enjoying every second of it.

Because for now, this nothing? It’s everything.