I Have a Desk Afterall

Well, it turns out that under the mass of papers . . . I do, indeed, have a desk.

It's no secret the last several weeks have been horrible. The Queen of England once called such a period the "annus horribilis" at her annual speech. I'm not a queen . . . but yes, I'll invoke Latin. It's been an annus horribilis. Or, in plain English, lately life has sucked.

Because of the funeral, insanity, and so much going on, filing has pretty much consisted of wadding up fistfuls of reeceipts and shoving them in a basket on my desk. When that got too full, it spilled to my desk, when that got so I couldn't even SEE it, I felt like I was having a breakdown. No place to work, no place to THINK. So today, Saturday, I woke up at 5:30 a.m., figuring all my kids would be sleeping in, and I filed. And it turns out that yes, I have a desk. And it turns out that cleaning it off CAN indeed bring me a little peace of mind.

So . . . who else has organizational issues? You can come here to Messy Desks Anonymous. Or, if you are very NEAT, but you can share you neatness techniques. I'll try not to vomit.

Peace,
E