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.
I don't even have a Sex category! In their Sex category, they have a post called 56 Orgasms for Your 56th Birthday?
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.
Although I strive for order, I find it escapes me. It is then that I look at the magnet a friend gave me, "A Clean House/Office is a Sign of a Wasted Life".
You're not alone BG.
Posted by: Jennifer | March 03, 2006 at 01:54 PM
Hi Jennifer,
I have a sign that says, "Please don't straighten out the mess in my room. You'll confuse me and screw up my world."
Cuz I do know where everything is.
Posted by: blue girl | March 03, 2006 at 02:06 PM
Maybe that's it... maybe the disorder is its own kind of order. I, too, know where my stuff is. Someone else may not be able to find it, but I can.
The other sign I have is, "Creative minds are rarely tidy." I don't like grunge or that kind of mess, but I don't mind the piles of stuff I have in my studio.
Posted by: Jennifer | March 03, 2006 at 02:12 PM
Clearly you are one step closer to being more organized - now that you've created yet another category of post.
I luv ya, BG.
Posted by: Kevin Wolf | March 03, 2006 at 04:43 PM
Tagging posts is one of my least favorite things. I don't feel like the existing tags ever fully capture the thrust of a post, and I never feel like making new ones.
"I have a sign that says, "Please don't straighten out the mess in my room. You'll confuse me and screw up my world."
and i need a sign like that
Posted by: Jedmunds | March 03, 2006 at 04:53 PM
Thanks Kevin.
And Jedmunds...let me see what I can do about that.
Posted by: blue girl | March 04, 2006 at 07:46 AM
Ok, I'll be the one to ask. Is the question mark after the name of your hypothetical 56 Orgasms category an expression of shock, doubt, a secret thrill, or was it the derisive snort of a professional athlete at a rank amateur's pride in an inferior achievement?
And would that category be where I'd find posts about the Bush Administration, other bloggers, and stories about your friends and family?
Posted by: Lance Mannion | March 04, 2006 at 10:31 PM
I can relate all too well. oy!
But that IS a pretty little bow you've used to wrap it up.
{-;
Posted by: Michael Bains | March 06, 2006 at 09:50 PM
Every post of ours gets like 5 inerchangeable and meaningless tags. That is part of the fun. Also, we have a category "blah blah" and everything goes with that. Res is the worst. He'll have an obvious post about food or something and he'll leave it "uncategorized"
LAME!
Posted by: Pinko Punko | March 07, 2006 at 04:31 AM