Not that the weather isn't. Atoms in motion are very relevant and, in large amounts, make an impression.
The work on the dungeon continues. A third of the floor has been vacuumed and mopped, surfaces cleaned and re-cluttered with items rearranged for easier filing. The wife has offered to help, to which I have declined. However, she has successfully lobbied against the further use of PineSol.
I wish I could recall what led up to her asking this morning what my evil voice had to say about my progress. My answer, in a low gutteral: "Organization is death." And returning to a normal tone, "I have thought about this."
It begins with a single file on my desktop, "In case I am dead." It is as close as I have gotten to making a Will. Then it continues with archiving years of work into a digital format to make the expressed wishes more manageable, all of which pales in light of the jumble of other files on my desktop and hard drives. I create much more than I categorize; the latter comes under pressure.
An accounting. That's what it is.
Some of our trees have lost most of their leaves, yet there are many more that have yet to lose much at all. Many are still green. The clear gutters are evidence. As I pile papers I realize how long it has been since the last structuring, but even this is skewed for I know from past attempts that I have been content to stop with cosmetic improvements and 'get back to work'.
Compartmentalization is the grave, but it makes things less chaotic, yes?
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