September 28th, 2005

Roman

(no subject)

When I have my window open I hear the train almost as if it is next door. And late at night, I can hear the sound of airplanes warming up. The sound is mystical, other-worldly.
Roman

clutter hell

I sat on the couch this aft, sorting through papers, trying to find what I need for different purposes. It got so I couldn't keep the different purposes in mind and couldn't think straight.So many piles, so little time.

I have to take deep breaths and dive in again.

In the meantime I am clearing off the dining table so I can put the desk stuff there and use it as a sorting table. So many piles for the estate. So many for the foundation. So many for my personal life.

What doesn't make sense, and I knew this going in, is that a person like me has no business taking on other tasks that involve more paperwork. Isn't it enough to try to track my own crap? No, apparently not.

Of course there are many theories about these things. I'm deliberately creating clutter so I can hide my inadequacies? So I can have an excuse to procrastinate? Oh, hell.