Just sitting around, catching up on some web site maintenance and trying to avoid doing anything useful in the house. It is the usual mess here and my slacker ways are eventually going to catch up with me and I will be forced to do something about this place.
I do not want to.
If, I guess I should be saying "when", I begin to really knuckle down and get this under control, a large part of it is going to be all about getting rid of more things, all that crap that no longer serves me. The problem with what is left is that it is all still useful in the work I do, but there is just too much of it. The only solution is to organize it properly and get like-things back together in a single location. I did a big portion of that earlier this year, in that whole, stupid, hundred days thing. But, that was just the beginning, the chipping away at all of the stuff that is here in this physical environment and in my head. Man, what a mess that is. The in-my-head part.
I am, by nature and inclination and philosophy and desire, an orderly and organized person. Even the messy parts of this place are organized. There are no random collections of things anywhere. The boxes and the drawers and closets, even the stacks of boxes in the closets are things that are all of a kind. If I need to find something I know exactly where it is.
Well, expect for glue guns. There is something about the location and organization of glue guns that is beyond my ability to keep them physically and mentally located somewhere. As a result, there are probably at least four or five (See? I am not even certain of how many there are, for chrissakes!) of them around here somewhere...they have to be somewhere...but, I can rarely find more than one and even that finding of a single one can be a problem. Why that is, I have no idea. Same for the glue sticks, but if I find one of the glue guns, there is likely to be a package of sticks with it. This is so irritating that it makes me want to go and find one, right this minute. Oh, O.K., if I take a few deep and cleansing breaths, sit quietly for a moment and close my eyes, that urge will likely pass. O.K., then. Yeah. Whew. Better now.
So, anyway, my intention is, as long as I am caught up on working on that site, I am going to tackle the art fair boxes in the front closet. I am going to organize that stuff to within an inch of art-fair-stuff consciousness. I am too busy this year to do any art fairs or womens' fairs or any of that stuff, so I am going to give all of the last season stuff away.
As difficult as it was to give away the beginnings of the larger giving away of books (still to be completed) process, this art stuff is a killer. I waited for nearly fifty years to do art, to have it be a part of my actual, daily life that divesting myself of the excess is totally breaking my heart and a significant portion of my spirit. Just another thing that I do not want to do. I seem to prefer the burden of having all of this stuff around to getting it the heck out of here and being free of the weight of it all. Plus, there is that whole getting rid of the old to make way for the new. Man.
It is small consolation, although any consolation might be nice, that once I start throwing stuff away, that someone who is not me will once again begin going through the trash bags and pulling stuff out and hiding it in the garage with all of the stuff that someone who is not me pulls from the trash and hides in the garage. So, it really never leaves, it just goes to become mouse, chipmunk, ground squirrel and spider homes and toilets in that place that would be a garage if it was emptied of all of the hidden stuff and could have space for my car.
That sound frustrating, the part about how stuff is hidden there, and it is frustrating, but it is also funny and of some comfort to know that I am not the worst hoarder here, especially when I look at the pile of old, cardboard boxes that someone who is not me will not allow to leave the property. At least I can make pretty and cool and, well, often weird, art. All the boxes could be used to make is, ummmm...well...oh, my god, they could be used to make a fort in the backyard. Now, how cool is that!
Alrighty, enough of trashing someone who is not me. It was fun, I enjoyed it and it is only a matter of time before I do it again, but I do have to get at that closet.
Pull my hair back into a bun, roll up my sleeves, and just get to it.
I wonder if there is time for a nap first.
Laissez-faire. For everyone.
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