Sometimes Psychiatric Help is a Blessing

So I’m told. I have no idea why I wrote that title. Maybe I do need some psychiatric help. Or chocolate.

Anyway, I am going to be working on my little work area upstairs momentarily, in preparation for the coming of Nomstress, Nightflyer, and Rat Boy this weekend. I’m afraid when I start to do some art, and I use that term very loosely, I tend to make piles of my discards and my paints and my embellishments so that the original work area has shrunk by 75%. Working in a space the size of a sheet of notebook paper is not conducive to creativity, so the piles transfer down to the floor, leaving space open for yet more piles.

It’s like the Circle of Life™, only with scissors and glue instead of lions and zebras.

Don’t get me wrong. I can find EVERYTHING. Usually because it’s piled somewhere around the area, but I can still find it, so there’s a method. But I need to clean out a lot of old stuff and organize what I wish to keep. I should start with organization, though. If I start to clean out, then I will have piles and piles and more piles and my guests won’t be able to fit upstairs. My shrink, AKA the gal at the wine section, suggested I get those restaurant racks that are adjustable and shiny. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I already had shelves in the closet, and by that I meant I didn’t want her judging me. Her thing is wine, not hoarding intervention.

Anyway, I shall do my best to clear the area of the gingerly-placed piles of creativity. Hopefully it won’t take long.

And hopefully I won’t get distracted by starting yet another project…

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