Back to work.

Tomorrow, the historian goes back to work and so do I.  This week, I intend to sort and organize and give away and re-engineer and make my chaos submit to order or know the reason why. Possibilities:

1. Give some books and/or cds away.
2. Give a whole bunch of clothes and shoes away.
3. Ruthlessly get rid of a LOT of paper artifacts.  Maybe without even looking at them.  Much.
4. Move the big chair where the desk is and vice versa.
5. Contemplate how things got to this state of affairs.  Try to do this without sinking into despair.

Why have I not done this during the past week, you may be wondering, the week in which I saw six movies and barely cooked and only started to clean stuff up yesterday.  The answer is that cleaning up my nonsense is private.  Which is why I'm talking about it on my blog but not showing you pictures.  I am just not sure that anyone besides me and my dog needs to observe me sorting through the pile of shirts I have accumulated, or watch me in my deliberations, or listen to me mutter to myself.  Significantly, I feel this same way--that it should be private--about shopping (ah! see #5 above).  

Somehow, this blessed rage for order (O pale Ramon!) is connected with what I am imagining will be a storm of productivity in my projects.  Actually, I have a lot of faith that this will be so.  Some amount of order will be the result of this organizing mania.  And that amount of order will be exactly what is necessary for me to feel, even if this feeling is ephemeral, that I am on top of things enough to create, to write, to make.  So tomorrow, when I feel all sweaty with the effort of streamlining the stuff of my life, it will be good sweat, the kind that makes me feel that I can do almost anything.  

Lisa's Stuff:  Watch your back, because I am about to kick your ass.