Okay, I admit it: I am a profoundly disorganized Goddess. Don't let the file box, the notes on the bulletin board and the neatly lined-up CDs fool you -- For every one thing that's in its proper place, there are at least ten more somewhere nearby.
Lurking. Waiting to spring.
Or should that be 'waiting for spring'?
In between playing clarinet, doing yardwork, editing My novel Ice Cream for Lakshmi and nailing an old shirt to canvas stretchers with a staple gun,* I've been attempting to read a book called How to be Organized in Spite of Yourself (Schlenger & Roesch).
It's not working; at least, not yet. About all I've figured out so far is that I don't fit neatly into any of the disorganization styles presented in the book. I can, however, make a good case for fitting into at least six of them, with a pronounced bias towards "Hopper," "Everything Out" and "Fence Sitter."
(reaches for Her glass of single malt Scotch and frowns as she considers the camcorder manual, carving tools and two tape dispensers on the desk, then shoves the computer repair tools over by the elephant figurine and makes a mental note to put Her point-and-click camera back in Her purse where it belongs)
Like I said... Disorganized. I don't even need sticky tape at the moment.
(puts the carving tools and the tape away in their respective storage boxes; makes another mental note to take the flashlight back down the kitchen after She installs the USB and FireWire cards in Red's computer)
So this is what I'm going to do instead: I'm going to spend a few minutes tonight learning how mind mapping works, and then I'm going to see if I can actually make-go.
And then maybe I'll be organized enough to figure out this organizing book.
* Why? Because you can *never* have too many Ming-style dragon pictures, or too few 100% polyester shirts.