I do feel calmer when I walk into the closet which was organized and has managed to stay so.
My desk is the antithesis of the closet.
call the dentist for G'ma's denturesand that's just what's right in front of my nose.
change the doctor appointment
write a check covering the co-pay for G'ma's visit to the ER
reserve those books from the library
call the artist who offered to help with my logo
No wonder I can't think creatively. My life is interfering with my thought processes.
The saddest part about this situation is that I wrote the previous paragraphs several weeks ago and they are even more true today than they were back then. I am certainly not part of the solution. I am definitely part of the problem. In fact, I can tell you that in this one rare instance, I have no one to blame but myself for the state of affairs that lies in front of me.
It takes remarkable forbearance for TBG to approach the desk. He's a put-it-away-immediately kind of guy, and I am the antithesis. I never finished digging through to the bottom layer when I attacked this problem last Spring. I was full of myself then, reveling in the fact that I could sit and lean and move just enough to actually accomplish something. I was more about the event than I was about the outcome and I'm paying the price for that today.
I wanted the contact information for a BlogHer'11 attendee and it was almost simpler to go through the BlogHer website to find her than it was to look through the mess on my desk.
The cordless handset for the land-line (yes, hopelessly wedded to the 20th century... that's us....) was lost for a day or two, buried under papers and boxes and notebooks and calendars. That's a list I made without turning my head.
There's no reason for the Cooling Mineral Gel Tea Tree Pain Reliever to be on this desk. No reason at all. If I used it here, on myself or applying it to another, my keyboard would rise up in revolt. I refuse the interior scent at the car wash, I don't have Glade (candles or plug-ins or otherwise) perfuming my air, and I don't think I want a menthol burst every time my fingers tap a key. And yet there it sits, right on the corner, taking up just enough space, wondering as I do what it's doing there.
I have a package I want to mail to Mei-Mei for her MoyaToyas. I've got books to reshelve. I have a gift for Mrs. Crayola. There's a snazzy new post-it dispenser just waiting to be admired.... except I can barely notice it amidst the chaos.
The printer rebels as the paper curls upon exiting; yesterday's mail is blocking the tray. I have swag to mail to Big Cuter and bills to be paid and bottle tops to recycle and court-related papers to be filed. I think I am in over my head. I need help.
I'm going to use the second Silent Auction prize I won at the Arizona List luncheon and get this taken care of once and for all. I'm hiring a professional to straighten it all out.
I'll make the call as soon as I do some minor clearing..... it's really too embarrassing to let anyone else see it like this.
(Yes, I do pick things up before the cleaning lady gets here. Sigh.....)
I fear that I am hopeless.