That Pile of Papers

19 Apr

I will not let myself be intimidated by that pile of papers.  You know the one.  The one that’s been shuffled around, from table to desk then back again, occasionally making a guest appearance as a stack on top of a shelf, or next to a file cabinet, or on the floor.  The one that breaks off and sprouts out from back corners of dark closets.  The one that has traveled with me, from apartment to apartment, since maybe about approximately 1998, yet never goes away.  It temporarily diminishes but never quite disappears, and then grows strong & bold again.  No matter how small it gets, there are always one or two sheets that have nowhere to go, that still have to be dealt with, that sit there, unresolved, taunting me endlessly.

And then there are the Post-Its.  I write every slip and scrap of an idea I have on a Post-It.  And phone messages, addresses, directions, reminders to myself to remind myself to do something I have to do.  Like clear up the Post-Its.  What happens is, at some point, I have to organize the Post-Its.  As to not be overtaken by the Post-Its.  Consolidate the Post-Its.  Translate and transcribe the Post-Its.  Decipher the hastily scrawled Post-Its I can no longer read, because what if they are trying to remind me to do something absolutely necessary for me to do, and because I can no longer read my writing, I forget?

There is the laundry, the piles of clothes to be washed and clothes that need to be taken to the dry cleaner, keeping the piles of paper company.  The clothes hanging listlessly in my closet and bunched up in my drawers, that no longer make me feel “fabulous;” they only make me feel 19, and not in the good way, demanding to be looked at, sacked or bagged and then hauled to The Salvation Army.

There are the dishes, the stacks of dirty dishes and soaking pans.  The receipts to be itemized and filed, in envelops or accordion files, or maybe thrown away.  The “desk organizer” that needs a good organization of its own.  And one of these days, my over-the-shoulder bag must be addressed, the change pooling at the bottom, the business cards here and there.  Not to mention my two email accounts, bursting at the seems, begging to be organized, categorized, perged, and merged.

There are the dustballs already starting to re-form in the corners and under the table, sneering at me, even though I just swept last week, and who has the time to sweep more than once a week?

The last thing I want to do after a day of work is deal with any of these piles, so here I am, face to face, eyeball to eyeball, nose to nose, with piles upon piles on a gorgeous, sunny Saturday April afternoon. 

Don’t mess with me.  I will not let you get the best of me.  I will conquer each and every last dusty, crumpled, rumpled, restless inch of  you.

But not today.  It is too too nice outside for pile-conquering today.  I will save you for a rainy day.  Don’t get too comfortable, too relaxed, too at ease.  Because I will be back.  To take you down.

Copyright © 2008 by Jennifer Garam

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