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1:34 p.m. Oops. Wanted to remember to write here, but I forgot. Instead, I started right in on the filing because the piles-to-be-filed were totally engulfing the entire dining room table. Not that I have an actual dining room, I should point out. I'd like to have one, but I don't. I do have an actual table, however. I've had dining rooms in the past and I've had dining areas, of course. Dining ells. Eat-in kitchens. Sort of like sleep-in bedrooms. Or pee-in bathrooms ... yet, it's often listed as a selling point. 3:50 p.m. Anyhoo. So, I'm losing the battle of the day. It always wins, you know. However, I've put up a decent fight. If I'd thought to take a "before" photo of the mess on the table that I've turned into those several piles you see in the photo, you'd go: aaaahhhh! Whoa! Bravo! But instead, I have a photo of several piles of paper, give or take a hundred or so pages. When the pages all magically float to their intended folders and all the files are perfect, totally perfect, I'll take their picture, and proudly so. Filing is a very funny thing, at least I think so. When it comes upon me -- this feeling, or idea, or fever -- I do nothing else but dream about it and mastermind the job. I work through every last scrap of paper, be it an old wrinkled fax, the stray scrawled note, a forgotten blurry restaurant receipt -- I keep them all and I stack them neatly according to their size, of course. In shoeboxes, of course. Usually, I'm interrupted mid-filing by some kind of project or crisis or deadline and I invariable abandon the job before I've managed to finish it, and that's where things remain for another entire year or until I can't stand it any more. Then, I try again to get through it all. I will never say never, but I do have a lot of boxes to go through. I've lost track of the picture of all the boxes stacked up and teetering against the wall, but at last count there were about 20 of them. Stuffed to the edges with paper. 12:16 a.m. So, I went looking through my old entries for that photo of all the big boxes* stacked against the wall. I searched on the word "files" and I was shocked all over again to come face to face with the rat when those same boxes were stacked in the dining room. I don't even remember why I'd moved them -- possibly to make room for the filing cabinets, which I've not yet adequately utilized, but I'm getting there. Hardly scratched the surface, but I'm working on them. Really. I did learn how to make groovy hairlines around my columns today, thanks to my brilliant daughter. I showed her a page that has made me weak with envy and she was able to glance at the code and tell me what I needed to know. With this new skill, I might even make a newish design on these pages, maybe. And it got me to musing about how I used to be the big authority in her life. I named the colors and pronounced the vowels and my word was golden. Now, she's holding the flashlight. Off to bed. *found it! (Not that I'm relentless, but ... ok. It's a sickness.) |
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