after taking office.

Wendy Trunz, co-owner of the Long Island home organizing company Jane’s Addiction Organization, said she grew up in the smallest house in her family’s circle of friends and family. Now, with a husband and two kids, she lives in the smallest house among her neighbors and loved ones.“My mom’s door was always open. Their table always had an extra seat. You just knocked and came in, and my mom just believed the more the merrier, this is

and don’t mind the mess. And there’s something great about that,” she said.Trunz notes that along with social media, theto house shame by sending millions of people home.

“Even now, five years later, we’re going in and people are still not eating at their dining room tables and not having people over,” she said. “Their husband is still sitting there working and it’s covered with stuff. We come in and clear that table and they call us in tears because for the first time they ate as a family around their dining room table again and not at the counter. It’s amazing. It’s amazing.”Trunz had a easy solution for a client who had a stuffed front hall closet and felt she couldn’t accommodate the coats of guests.

“We just bought them a rolling rack, as if it’s a fancy thing. Nobody’s going to open the closet,” she said.

And if someone does house-shame you, there’s another easy solution, she said. One of her best friends is a teacher who invited teacher friends over for a meal and made her favorite tuna fish, choosing to focus on the magic of gathering rather than the toil of preparation.Restaurant owner Shin Byung-chul peers from behind a flyer he put up of Kenneth Barthel at his restaurant in Busan, South Korea, May 17, 2024. (AP Photo/Jae C. Hong)

He hung flyers all over Busan, where his mother abandoned him at a restaurant. She ordered him soup, went to the bathroom and never returned. Police found him wandering the streets and took him to an orphanage. He didn’t think much about finding his birth family until he had his own son, imagined himself as a boy and yearned to understand where he came from.He has visited South Korea four times, without any luck. He says he’ll keep coming back, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

Some who make this trip learn things about themselves they’d thought were lost forever.In a small office at the Stars of the Sea orphanage in Incheon, South Korea, Maja Andersen sat holding Sister Christina Ahn’s hands. Her eyes grew moist as the sister translated the few details available about her early life at the orphanage.