The office area is a shambles. I'm sure it's going to stay that way much longer than I'd like. Of course, it's my own fault. I'm re-arranging, throwing out, filing, scratching my head and sneezing every few minutes. Dust, you know. And LOTS of it.
I dreaded doing this. Talked about it all last year and never touched a thing. Finally, I just couldn't stand it anymore. Plus, I think the idea of getting my own computer galvanized me to consider just where in the hell I was going to actually put one. I have a paper sickness: just can't throw information-laden pieces of it away. It's nuts. Today, I feel just like one of those hoarders Oprah helps periodically. Little slips of paper EVERYWHERE along with stacks of files and magazines. My mother says it's genetic; I got it from my father who was notorious for jotting down "notes" and tearing things out of magazines. Me, too. And it's crazy-making.
This Friday's quote should be tattooed on my forehead. Or, at the very least painted on the wall in big, big letters.