… except that I am unhappy with the state of my desk at work, and I really have to clean my room in my apartment. I was nearly suffocated by a dust bunny this morning. Every once in a while I get these impulses to clean up and throw out stuff, except that I’m a pack rat, and the very act of getting rid of things makes me very very uncomfortable. It always happens — the moment I get rid of something, I find that I need it. Still… it needs to be done. Need to find spots to put books away, wash the Irish linen runner on top of my dresser, dust all the little knickknacks scattered on shelves around my walls, sweep up, and shake out the throw rug.
And see how I manage to blather on about nothing in particular, thus avoiding actually doing anything about the piles of work on my desk? Yeah, I gots mad skillz.
