It shouldn’t be this much work to get a treadmill. It has become an expedition, in the Winnie The Pooh sense. It’s coming from the States, delayed by storms. For a while there, I’m not sure UPS knew where it was. I have to build a table for the exact measurements that will fit (once the table saw at Home Depot is repaired).
I need to move all the stuff stored in that corner, and find new homes for things – boxes of books, boxes of research material, weird little frogs I’ve been given because I write fantasy. This has triggered an excavation of other parts of the office, and the discovery that the totally overloaded IKEA shelves have bent the brackets holding them to the wall, so they could slump and sag.
We’re hauling loads of papers to the recycling bin, finding new corners to store things, sorting and tossing and finding dust balls.
What I’m loving is having less stuff in the office. There’s something about clutter that weighs on me. Less frees me, lets me create more, and encourages me to find more stuff to get rid of. Is this a temporary urge, or will I dig deeper into corners, searching more more to toss and recycle and give away and repurpose and … hmmm – this is kind of fun.
I’m not sure my husband agrees, as he hauls boxes of trombone music and sorts it into a filing cabinet in another room, or digs through the ever-growing collection of computer bits, figuring out what we need and what we don’t (like the 2006 hard drive backup.)
Next step: how good are our carpentry skills, as we attempt to build a desk that will 1. be the right size, 2. not fall over if I fall and land on it, and 3. not look like something I should fall on and destroy.
Maureen
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