This week, I have gladly headed up the stairs to my craft cave, only to find my steps slow somewhat as I get nearer to the door and remember what lies within. What lies within would make Monica Geller cry. Okay, definitely cry and possibly combust.
Somehow, sometime, the clean, white and deliciously smooth top of my desk turned into something resembling a car crash. I'd like to be able to say that exercising my once-in-a-generation creative talent leaves no time for tidying but it would be a lie. Oh, how I would love to have a room that looked a like any of these! Instead it looked like this.
But I can, in honesty, pin the blame on my enthusiasm. You see, in my case a messy desk is a messy mind. It is usually a sign that I am in the midst of a creative maelstrom. It means I have up-ended my button jar, laid out all my ribbons, raided my fabric stash and generally had more than a little fun. Who am I to interrupt a creative burst in order to do a little organising?
But still, while an unruly environment might represent an inspired time, it's not conducive to actual production. To actually manufacture, I need my ducks in a row because the jumble is distracting.
The problem is that I have a bit of Monica Geller's obsessive compulsiveness about me and so would like everything to be just so, but I also lean toward the Albert Einstein school of thought on the matter. It was he who once said, "If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, then what are we to think of an empty desk?" Dead right Bertie, I couldn't have said it better myself.
When I first started living with my husband, he had a tidy, orderly life. He did his best to imprint his "everything has a home" philosophy on my psyche but I confess it's usually only once I already have the mother of all messes that I remember I should have put everything back where it came from. Too often my Sunday crafternoon is gone before I have even started to cut, stitch, or sew. I would never survive in a "clean desk policy" office. It's just not fun to sit and try to ignore the omnipresent reminders of my domestic shortcomings.
So, once again I tackled my dastardly desk and I thought you might like to see the progress I made. How virtuous am I?
Who else out there in cyberspace has to have things "just so" before they can get on with it whatever "it" is? I was the same when I worked fulltime. I used to look at the inches of dust on other desks in my pod (you know who you are) and think that my messy was way better than their dirty. That I just couldn't ignore. So am I fastidious or finicky?
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