Not quite done, but at least the den is coming along. I decided to finally take a look at my filing, which is super scary because I despise filing things. Oh, I like order, don't get me wrong; I just prefer that order would happen organically.I decide to dedicate a day of my school break to my den. This becomes several days as I have to hit different areas of the room: the sewing corner, the closet, the books, the Christmas stuff, the craft stuff, my school stuff, my writing stuff, grad school stuff, school/professional documentation, four boxes of family pictures and documents spanning four generations, and multiple boxes of filed material (plus the entire box full of paperwork still waiting to be filed).
Today is the day I am going through the file boxes. I start weeding stuff out, although some of it, like taxes from twelve years ago, does not seem to make it to the shredder. Credit cards that expired three years ago and more, however, do actually make it to the shredder. Everything is going along smoothly.
Smoothly, that is, until I hit the files of my writing.
Once I started taking grad classes again, my writing file exploded. Half-written manuscripts started reproducing until I didn't know what I had anymore. By the time my thesis rolled around, I was still writing the blog every day, as well. My writing files have somehow turned into piles worthy of the Library of Congress. Worse, even, I discover that I have started multiple folders in separate file boxes for duplicate topics.
