Just walked into my office and tripped over a globe. Which crashed into a wooden box of spices that I received as a Christmas gift from a supplier. I'm lucky that I caught myself before I fell flat on my face onto the 4" black heeled boot that's on the floor next to the spice box.
I might've started bleeding. But oh, lucky me! I could've cleaned it up with a snow brush and bottle of 409 all purpose cleaner that is nearby.
I used to joke to my boss at my old job that he could never fire me because there weren't enough boxes in the world to pack up all the creeping crud in my office. And then as luck would have it, one night as I was working late our building caught on fire. I was the one who spotted the smoke pouring out of the light fixtures in the hallway as I was headed to the restroom. I ran back inside to warn the other dedicated schleps that we had to get out of the building. It was definitely a keystone cops moment as all six of us were running around, bumping into each other trying to figure out what to do.
You wouldn't think "Get Out Now" would be a hard thing to figure out as the flames were whipping at our feet. Our lives slipping away with each passing moment. Our torturous deaths upon us, as we, manipulative advertising punks, would surely end up in the fiery depths of hell which is what we so richly deserved.
But, I digress.
I ran into my office and froze. You know how you've always thought about what you'd grab and try to save in case of a fire? It felt like an eternity as I stood there scanning that office. Do I grab all the artwork stacked against the wall? The invoices in piles on my desk? All the Fed-X packages I had received that day? My four day old lunch on my back credenza? Those seashells? The ice skates?
As I called 911 the art director was screaming at me to leave. He was in a total panic. I grabbed the framed photo of my son off the wall and ran down four flights of stairs and out of the building with him. He had grabbed a three foot bag of packing peanuts. He never lived that down.
There's nothing like a fire to force you to make a clean start. I had the opportunity, but I blew it. When we were able to move back in, within months, my office was just as chaotic as before.
Ugh. I need to get organized. But I think I was born without an organization gene. I mean just look at all those categories on this blog to the left. There are 33 of them!
Bobness, who writes ten times more content than I do has only eight categories! And he even has better names for them than me. Where I have one called Random Happenings, he has one called Another One Of Life's Little Fucking Lessons.
And don't confuse my Random Happenings category -- where I have posts about the Bush Administration, other bloggers, and stories about my friends and family -- with my Current Affairs category -- where I have posts about the Bush Administration, other bloggers, and stories about my friends and family.
Pandagon has 71 categories, but that is perfectly understandable. There are three writers over there and their topics are very specific. They even have a Sex category. And out of 2,249 posts there are 73 in that category. Which kind of suprises me. They all seem to write about sex way more than that.
If I had written a post like that, my category would probably be called 56 Orgasms?
I need to clean up my act. Not now though because I need to find some stuff and start getting some work done. I just have to figure out how to wrap this post up with a pretty little bow and move on. Should I file this under Just A Thought?
Nah. That wouldn't be like me at all.