So I was sitting here, thinking hmm, what can I write about for Monday’s blog entry since I will probably be busy doing other stuff?, and it occurred to me that my desk is all cluttered up with shit.
A lot of it, I try to deal with or at least keep rotating. My coffee cup gets regularly cleaned (okay, rinsed) and freshened up. Same goes for my phone which is with me almost everywhere I go, and my breakfast / lunch scraps and utensils and plates and stuff, they go back into the main house and then new ones brought out every day. And okay, the pile of McDonald’s napkins rotates steadily as I mop up coffee and blow my nose and wipe my monitor clear of horrifying half-chewed stuff that I’ve sprayed while reading or watching things, and then buy more McDonald’s and there’s another five billion napkins in the bag.
But what’s with this huge pile of papers on my printer / scanner?
Okay, there’s the wad of paperwork for Wump’s and Toop’s Australian citizenship, I’m keeping that there because I need to keep remembering to get on that some day. And there’s my plot / environment randomiser for The Final Fall of Man, which I haven’t used all that much since I actually got the last few books planned out decently. And there’s some drawings I intend to scan so it makes sense that they’re there. That also explains all the dice lying around.
The hand cream is important, because I am a known fingernail-skin peeler. It’s a serious problem and I know I am a bad person.
Add in a couple of notepads because I never walked past a funky notepad or diary in a shop without buying it; a rewritable CD that I think has music on it; some sticky notes with addresses and IBANs on; a framed picture of Mrs. Hatboy somewhere back there; pens and an empty ginger beer can that I can’t decide whether to put it on the Bar Äijä’s wall or throw it in the recycling, so on the desk it stays; a tabletop calendar; a couple of copies of Blaran ready to post out to my dad and to the cover artist; a CreateSpace receipt for a delivery they once again fucked up and which has been returned to sender, leaving me without the copies of Blaran I need for the up-coming book release party; old paperback drafts of the Book of Pinian waiting for some future post-Final Fall of Man date at which I will resume editing them; a massive wad of paid bills; and a box that seems to contain the foam inlay for a set of bar gear that is now out in Bar Äijä’s where it belongs.
And don’t even get me started on the drawing desk behind me, or my home office desk. Or the shelves. What is all this shit?