I need crampons and a servant to catch whatever I discard as I move up and across the mountain on top of my desk, and no – I don’t know where everything goes because it doesn’t all have homes to go to. There’s a plastic bottle of spray bleach right at the front; I killed a monster spider the other night.
From where I sit, on the bed, I can see two sweet tins that I know are full of crafting bits – they do have a home, of sorts, so I could easily stop typing and move them into the cupboard. It’s all the paper that stops me, the letters with their envelopes, the printed-out stuff that might be needed – even photographs test-printed on ordinary paper. Why did I leave that blue carrier-bag there? Now that does have a home, in the kitchen junk. At the top of the pile are two beautiful packs of tarot cards, vampires and fairies…and yes, they have a place to be too so why are they dumped on that heap?
Is it me, or does the universe have a plan to change my habits? I have photographic evidence of the surface of this desk, smooth and clear as a desert landscape just a couple of months ago…and the armchair beside it was empty then too. Yes, that’s another mountain – I can’t get away from them, they’re the bane of my life. Who said mountains don’t move? They are the fastest things on no legs.
I’ve got a £50 voucher for Argos somewhere on that desk so if I want to spend it I’d better climb into my gear…maybe I should take some antihistamine for any dust that is disrupted.