Wednesday, December 1, 2010

The Chaotic Life of a Creative Writer Amidst Pooch Pals, Puppy Poop and Book Clutter (3

By Miriam Medina

(Continue from Page: 2)

Now for my book and paper clutter, both the bane of my existence and my pride and joy. I love books, but I hate the clutter. Since my living room is large, I have six tall bookcases where the books are neatly stacked, plus boxes filled with more books and nowhere to put them. I already have two tall bookcases in my bedroom. I love to read, especially when it comes to the Victorian Era. I am surrounded by a literary blanket of books, all within reach, which seems to keep eating away at my work area, like a Pac-Man full of power pellets munching on blue ghosts. My work space is losing this game. apartment is starting to look like a library with heart disease, it's arteries clogged with a messy build up of cluttered papers, books and book cases.

I wonder why I am still saving the boxes from those books that were shipped to me several months ago. Maybe I subconsciously plan on moving when the books take over my apartment, finally consuming all of my remaining living space. GAME OVER. I can see the conversation with my realtor now:

Realtor (puzzled look on his face): But Ma'am, you already have one apartment. They're expensive in New York. Pray tell, what do you need two for?

Me: For my books.

Realtor (puzzled look on his contorted face): Come again?

Me: My books are growing in numbers like rabbits on Viagra. They're spreading like a virus. I think they are plotting to take over the World.

Realtor (puzzled look on his contorted face as he slowly creeps backwards towards the door): Uhm... Kay? I just remembered, I have another appointment to show a house in Jersey, I better get going.

Me: Hey, leave me your card will you, I'm going to need more apartments soon, those books are spreading fast. Maybe I better not give them my new address, eh?

I'm sooooo grateful for my post-em notes, though, and they are all over the desk and tray table, reminding me of what to do or where I left off. Where was I? Oh yeah, sometimes my desk looks like a landing field for post-em notes. Every day I struggle with the burden of navigating paperwork clutter, since I am constantly writing. Sometimes my bills get trapped in the clutter, and only when late charges are added do I dare try to locate them. Bill collectors don't like the "my paper clutter ate my bill" excuse.

To be continued: (4)

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