It's Monday. Which means I'm supposed to write something in the blank space on this blog.
I'm working on that.
Which brings to mind something else:
I'm working on a lot right now. I'm itching to have something accomplished, for once, because I have a lot of chainsaws in the air and I can't seem to set any of them down. After the wedding, I keep telling myself. After the wedding, I'll have more time.
Which is inherently true-- when the party for 100 of our closest guests is over and done with and the fiance and I are completely, wholeheartedly married to one another, I will have more time based on sheer numbers. I won't be planning the party anymore, for one.
But I hope it's true in practice, because I am really good about filling my free time.
I'm good at filling free space, too.
I've been noticing a lot of clutter in my life lately. Which is interesting because it's not like it magically appeared overnight; rather, it's been slowly building to the point that I've noticed it. There's a bookshelf at home that is supposed to house decorations that are currently invisible because they're covered in old mail and receipts and wedding papers and real estate sheets and notebooks and note-covered copies of my MS's. My desk at work has assignment calendars with the heading of "April 2010" peeking out under old reports and data entry forms that need to be recycled.
Our car STILL has the tent in the trunk from our trip two weeks ago.
The thing is, I am more than capable of keeping this kind of thing under control. And it irritates me that it's gotten so far out of hand. But the clutter isn't just in my physical space, it's in my mind, too. It's keeping me from writing out the ending to my mystery. It's keeping me from safely setting down any of the other forty chainsaws I have. It's keeping me from blogging regularly (on my personal blog), commenting regularly on others, and please don't even look at the last time I tweeted, for goodness sake.
I'm not saying I'm free from the blame here. I'm not. This is ALL me. But I'm wondering if the physical clutter is a sign that something's stuffed full upstairs, too. Maybe if I clean out the mess I can touch, I can clean out the mess that I can't find.
How do you deal with clutter?