Cleaning Questions

Where did this come from?
Why did I save it?
Should I keep it?
When-- in what alternate parallel universe-- would I have need for this?
Why can't I throw it away?

So, we were cleaning up the old place because the landlady (aka hubby's older sister) is preparing for what we hope will be our eventual departure in coming months. In other words-- we're planning to move out and she's listing the place for sale.

In Michigan.

Snowball's chance, to be certain.

But, we'll all play along and list the property, clean it up and show it if anyone is intersted in it. We stuffed things in the closet that have always just never made into the closests. Like my Star Wars displays I poached from my retail job. Or the pile of Pokemon cards next to my spot at the cluttered dining room table.

Clutter. As we were moving things to try to find a new spot to stuff them, I kept coming back to the above questions. Some things I was able to pitch. Like the bumper stickers for the local radio station that I kind of don't ever listen to anymore. Not since I found the alt rock station. Or the extra cardboard video tape sleeves that have no tapes... how did that happen, anyway?

Then there are other things that I know will be useful someday. Like the lengths of cable for the TV, a landline phone, and the computer network. The adapter for eletrical devices and a PS2/USB adapter. Cord extenders, power supplies, a hard drive, you know, useful stuff. Someday.

Then there's the oddball shit. Like the socket that doesn't match the set and I don't even know WHY I have this particular one. I don't think it even fits the baby socket wrench I have. My guess? My Oldest Bother would like it back someday. ;-) Or the pack with three crayons. Not even Crayola crayons, but some cheap crayons taht I would never use anyonway because they're not Crayola. Debris. Things I can't seem to part with but realisitcally won't ever use.

Espcially once I put that stuff in a box and hide it away some where.

But moving (or in this case, preparing to show a property) is a good time to force oneselve to go through those piles of shit that were always saved for later.

I keep telling myself that when we move into our next place, which should be far more permnent than this dwelling was ever intended to be, that we'll have better storage solutions for the strange debris that breeds in the dark. I even believe myself.

Except for my office. That-- that's just hopeless. The best I can do is subdue the beast for a few days at a time. Then it goes back to breeding more papers, paperclips, and half-legible notes scribbled on half sheets of scrap paper than I can never throw out or find a home for... This is where it's the worst. Like the mother Alien. Somedays I'm lucky to get out alive. Somedays, I really do think I need a flame thrower.

Where does your clutter breed best?

Workspace Meme

Saw this over at Stuart Neville's blog and thought it looked like fun.

From Stuart's site:

So, here's my idea for a Meme, which I will now inaugurate as Workspace Wednesday. It's inspired by a fascinating article at the Guardian Books website, highlighted by Josie. The article is a gallery of well-known writers' offices and workspaces, with a note from each author on the things scattered around them. Anyway, I thought us less well-known writers could have a bash.

There are only a few guidelines:

1) You must take a photo of your workspace and post it to your blog.

2) You must provide a few words about it.

3) You must NOT tidy, clean or otherwise stage the workspace - it must be EXACTLY as it usually is (you can see that I followed this rule
religiously).

4) (Optional) You can nominate as many or as few others as you wish.

So here's my workspace.

I staked my territory in the second bedroom of our rented condo. It sure as hell beat being wedged into a corner of the living room like I had been at the small apartment by the railraod tracks.

This is standing in the doorway. Yes, I have TWO desks, both about 6 feet long. I inherited one from my older bother-- I mean, brother, yeah-- and the other from hubby's sister. It's still not enough desk space. Between the desk and the corner of the wall is my pile 'o boxes. Don't know what I'm saving them for, but I am. It matches the pile in the living room...

So, this is where I sit. This is actually looking pretty clean-- no, I didn't violate the terms of the meme. Last week, I picked up because I wasn't quite done putting off grading.

I do have two computers. Usually the laptop just goes to school with me where I use it for grades or to check my email with a poached Wi-fi signal from the neighbor. When I'm working on something that requires a lot of wait time from my main computer, I pull up the laptop and put those few minutes of wait time to good use. No wasted minutes allowed. ;-)

The keyboard on the desk is over 12 years old by now. It works perfectly. It's my lifelong goal to type a keyboard to death. No luck. But I did scroll a mouse to death.

The big binder is my collection of print outs of Bo Fexler short stories. Everytime one comes out, there's a big little ceremony to print a copy, update my spreadsheet of published stories, and do a little happy dance.

On the other side of my office is where I collect old assignments from teaching. I don't have my own classroom, so I just cart the stuff back home at the end of the term. Occaisionally, I go through it and get rid of (recycle) outdated things or assignments that were modified for less whining.

Next to my CD rack is my wooden Crayola factory box. As a Crayola kid (if you scroll back up, you'll see I have a 64 box of crayons on my desk) I HAD to get this box when we went to Easton, Penn to the Crayola factory. I would have given my left leg for the box-- they let me take it home for only a trio of tens.

Because I'm such an organized person, I have boxes to toss things into by activity. The top is writing. The middle is Real Estate, and the bottom is Grad School. I pretend I'm going to sort them later. After I learn to fly.

You can see above the boxes that I have a couple shelves of little guys. Their Star Wars Galactic Heroes (aka Squatty Guys). I collect them.

Like, all of them. =)

This pic also shows the little chair in the corner of my office. It's primarily where I pile my sweaters, but hubby sits there when he comes to chat with me in my lair. Oh, wait. No, we left the chair there to give hubby a place to sit. I just toss my sweaters there. And everywhere else. Hubby just sits on them. He's really tolerant. Good thing...

I love my office. It's like a porcupine burrow where I can hang out. I have everything I need.

And surprisingly, I get all my work done in here.

And if anyone else wants to play, consider yourself tagged.

Except Patti. I'm tagging you for all the times you got me. =D

Oh, yeah, r2, I don't have your email so I can't send you anything. Send me an email at socalledauthor AT yahoo dot com.

Here I am.

Well. I've been kicking around the idea of putting up some sort of page for Bo Fexler, especially as she's been spotted more and more, lurking in corners of the internet. So, now that my computer-- my Precious-- is finally returned in working order, I've decided to do it.

My computer was gone for the last week. And before that it was in limbo because it needed a new motherboard, but I needed to get a proccessor . . . it was horrid. Then I managed to get a virus that reproduced like Tribbles in my exe files. That was pretty cool. But, now my Spud is back. And hubby and I can share our internet connection. (My internet connection.) And for Valentines Day hubby got me a *REAL* office chair. After some thirteen years of personal computing, I have an actual office chair. With cushions and armrests. Took some getting used to.

Now, if my freshly ordered toner cartridges get here, my office will be fully functional. It's a good feeling. And I can finally get some serious work done on a couple stories. Wordpad just doesn't cut it when I've been spoiled with MSWord for those thirteen years.