Neat Little Folders All in a Row

Just to be clear, I am quite certain the only reason I am still with my Significant Other is that he likes running errands and I loathe them. That is enough of a reason. I am quite serious. LOATHE is too light a word for it. I would rather poke my own eyes out. There is no fate worse than running errands with a Demon Baby in tow. Suffice it to say, today I descended into Dante's Third Circle of Hell.

Back-to-school shopping.

You know, in the Bible, God tells Eve as punishment for eating the apple, he is going to make childbirth more painful. No. God invented back-to-school shopping as punishment.

Store #1. Kohl's . . . to buy Oldest Son cool T-shirts with things like "Spider Pig" and The Simpsons' sayings on them. Add one Led Zeppelin (rock on!) sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, a backpack, a backpack for Demon Baby, a pack of Sponge Bob underwear for Demon Baby (I am still hoping that the Naked Strike will end soon), and I was $170 poorer. I was also "thisclose" to a nervous breakdown as Demon Baby likes to play hide 'n' seek in the clothes racks. He also took off his shoes.

Store #2. The shoe store. I bought Demon Baby shoes, but he continued his barefoot state. Add one pair of sneakers for Oldest Boy who seems to grow a few inches a month . . . and a second pair of Demon Baby shoes . . . $95 poorer.

Store #3. The Pantheon of Back-to-School Hell . . . the office supplies store. Demon Baby by now was shrieking. He also decided to try high jumping from various shelves.

Which brings me to writing. You see, part of going to the office supplies store was the idea that Oldest Son wants to be more organized this year. So from binder to pencils to calculator, we bought things designed to color-code by class. He's a brilliant kid taking honors physics and so on this year. But organization stumps him. Have you met his mother?

Which brings me to . . . INSPIRATION. Something about office supplies just makes me think I am going to reinvigorate the writing process, be more organized in my office, and this will increase my productivity a thousand-fold. It's like I drink the effing Kool-Aid every time I enter an office supplies store, mesmerized by folders and notebooks and pens and white boards.

It's a sickness.

Anyone else have Office Supply Disease? Do share? Or what other writing gadgets get you all hot and bothered?

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