There’s little surprise that I am plagued with incessant mind-chatter when my work bench is as cluttered as the Women’s Institute yearly jumble sale. I used to pride myself on being super organised. A place for everything and everything in its place, except for when it is not and then it is a clutter-fuck kind of lifestyle but an organised one…at least in my mind or it would be if that wasn’t filled with a list as long as the wooden school ruler I snapped out of anger when it felt like the right thing to do at the time.
I’d like to say that I staged the photograph of my work bench; took time to arrange everything to look as though a small army of little borrowers had rummaged through my boxes looking for thimbles to use as tents or machine headed screws to use for fairground rides. The cold and stark truth is that this is what it looks like without intervention.
Three days ago it was neat. Everything was in its place. Order had been restored and the incessant mind-chatter was at manageable levels and not in need of self medicating with a quick flick through Ulysses whilst sitting on the toilet with a toothbrush tucked between two of my toes as I pretended to be doing something useful instead of putting off Operation Declutter.
I avoided visiting the toolshed today because I knew that even if I searched through the twice-loved screws (some with rounded heads but was keeping because I wasn’t sure what to do with them and didn’t want to deposit them in the bin because that seemed such a waste) I wouldn’t find the 45mm M3’s that I required for the cupboard handles shipped from China because apparently I’m too colourful by far for the UK. Who knew that this would be the size that even B & Q wouldn’t stock. I already knew they didn’t have them when I set off on a 25 mile round trip. I had to satisfy myself and anyway, it was the perfect opportunity fill my trolley with two orange plant pots that would inevitably still be empty come this time next year, 5 pots of rainbow coloured paint, a roll of sandpaper to file the calluses on my hands and some brackets that weren’t white but more vomit-coloured but might take a splash of yellow paint if only I could be bothered.
It’s Thursday tomorrow and if, between constructing a little coloured box for my wotnots, I can find the time (which might be hard because I think it’s wedged between the box of drill bits and some pieces of wood that were once destined to be something but that’s another story altogether) and anyway…time is borrowed and with that in mind, I need to borrow at least 7 hours for some much needed shut eye and to contemplate getting a bigger shed or part with all the items I’ve been saving…just in case I need to repair the shed because it’s full of clutter-fucking objects.