A writing lesson yesterday stirred my recent thoughts regarding the weighty tome that I am supposed to be completing sometime this side of the next millenium. In response to the gentle nudge of others I have taken to the study today. To tidy. Or more precisely to wade through piles of detritus and then to tidy.
I began with good intentions, cleaning devices and clothes were pulled into the room, boxes emptied in anticipation of all the 'don't need to be here' books that can be put/sold/given away, the necessary radio and cup of tea installed and then...don't you find that if an item has to be taken to another room, then you find yourself picking at things on that shelf and wondering whether such and such a thing really belongs here after all?
Starting with the fallen shelf in the bookcase meant that I had to empty a box in readiness for the unwanted books removed. Items removed from the box had to be put into assorted piles, one of which could be put away upstairs. I examined a bookshelf upstairs and ... photos have been stashed, old magazines put into recycling, 2 huge bags of paper burnt unceremoniously as the small dog danced about the flames hoping for his ball to be thrown; I've filed some things, never to be seen again, looked through an old desk and emptied two drawers from that; I sat on the floor and sorted through a tottering pile of paperwork, discovering endless 'lost' forms from school in amongst bank statements, mis-directed post and rusty paperclips. As one heap diminishes, several others take its place, all bound for somewhere else, soon.
My task today was to sort the bookshelves and then to write. I've fixed the broken shelf and decorated the floor beautifully and this will have to count as part of my daily wordcount!
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