...
I am in a state. I am in my house with no place to put anything, needing all the surfaces that are covered with things there's no place to put. This means, of course, that I have to stow them in the back room. This means, of course, that some needed cleaning will be taking place, but I'm about to embark on the project from hell and it's making my brains fizz.
I can only look at my project for a few minutes before I leap up to put something somewhere else, forget it, and go to try to make this air freshening stuff I was cooking into a healthful quaff, forget it, and then suddenly, without premeditation, dump a pile of papers into a shopping bag and hide it, check the oven, and wonder why I forgot my weird tea thing.
Then I go back and take in a couple more lines of my monster project, waiting for the tools, and plotting the plotting of it... realizing this can only go to an abnormal person. Me. Someone normal might have the surfaces for it, but that's about all.
The house painters have not shown up and I'm going to have to beg the neighbor to loan me his righthand man. Maybe I can get him to nail up some shelves for me while he's about it. I mean, I only have maybe a tenth the books I used to have, and still they're overflowing my shelving space. Pots that don't fit anywhere. Acres of other things that don't fit anywhere either. So some shelves would help a damn lot. Then the surfaces could function.
Might'z well have lots of pounding and scraping going on while I'm trying to concentrate. That's always optimal. But it would be the best use of having moved my whole house into the back room, and then after I've vanquished the hydra maybe I should order up a dumpster and get vicious with what stays and what goes. I am starting to have a plan.
Maybe it doesn't sound like one to you.
But compared to the last ten years, this is so the start of a plan.
Which means I won't need a dog to be personable....
always and any time....
