is making me wait. (did you hear the ketchup song as you read that? I meant you to.)
We have lived in this new town, and new house for more than six months. And my desk is still a mess. I am the primary paper pusher in our house. I pay the bills, send in the school forms, deal with the minutiae. In our lovely new kitchen there is a desk area — easily accessible, readily available whenever I have a moment. Yet it is quite literally a pigsty. I blame my father. He is notorious for having stacks and stacks of papers in his cellar office. They get shifted about, re-organized, occasionally filed. Although in fairness, he can almost always find what he needs. Recently when I called home my mom chuckled (I could see the eye-rolling through the phone) about how he’d been working on cleaning up his office. This is code for reading some manual for a tape deck he bought in 1983. Or perhaps shopping online for a new Blu Ray player. Either is equally likely.
So my desk has stacks of papers, things stuffed in drawers, calendars tucked in the corner. Aside from being a procrastinator, I am a shopper. I blame my mother. Coming from dirt poor humble beginnings, when she finally reached comfortable middle class status she quite enjoyed shopping for some of the nicer things in life — she’d earned it after all. Being the youngest, I grew during this phase of our family. I’m often berated chastised by my older siblings how much better life was for me growing up. However, my married life involved raising a family on a meager medical resident’s income, so I’ve morphed into a trash picker frugal shopper with great taste.
Anyway, being a procrastinator I have yet to organize my new work space. And being a shopper, I now have several discount items scrounged from the bins and sale racks. Oh, and being a recovering perfectionist I’m hesitant to try and put it all together because what if it doesn’t come out like my vision?
However, there are two pairs of grubby little toddler hands roaming around my house grabbing all they can find. So the procrastinator, shopper, and perfectionist need to have a meeting ASAP and make a plan. Because I don’t think the IRS will approve taxes submitted by 20-month-olds.
How about you? What is your work space like? Neat and tidy or like a tornado swept through yesterday?
If you want to see the details of my mess, go here.