I looked at the table in dismay.
How could I live like this! I chided myself and set to task. Maybe when my table was organized, I’d want to study on a Saturday that I woke up so late on. Let me just get this little thing done although I don’t for how long everything will stay in place.
Our love for order in a chaotic unpredictable world is strange. Books need to be piled on top of one another. Pens should know the stand they take. Headphones are a pertetual entangled mistery. Knick knacks are to be stuffed in compact spaces, shut down in containers.
Someone said cleaning is like putting things in less obvious places. So it is! From pens that don’t work but I can’t somehow want to get rid of them to clothes tags that I’ve collected to turn into bookmarks, there’s so much that takes up space but does nothing. Yet I can’t seem to part with them.
Someday I’ll buy the refills to these pens. Someday I’ll have pretty insta ready bookmarks. I really have begun believing half the work is done when I contemplate it. That sounds like a death knell to that novel I have already written in my mind.
