My home office. Poor thing. It's slowly being taken over by mounds of paperwork I just can't seem to get rid of. I'm a pack rat. I come by it honestly. My office has never even come close to the disasters my father & my mother have managed to create. But it was getting close. Getting rid of things is just not something I'm good at - I might need that 1992 Reader's Digest article -or- the vaccination record for my dog that died five years ago. If there's a Pack Rats Anonymous out there, I need to sign up. So I spent this weekend going through piles & boxes & more piles of paperwork (if the weather had been decent I'd have found something else to do). I've been putting this chore off for ages! I filled three of those big black lawn & leaf bags with shredded stuff. Can you believe I still had all of my paycheck stubs going all the way back to 1992????? Me neither. But I did. You know what the worst part is? I still haven't gotten everything gone through. I can't decide if I feel accomplished & satisfied that I got 3/4 of the way through that disaster -or- bummed out that there's still 1/4 of the disaster left. Kind of a glass half-empty or half-full debate. I guess I'm thrilled with the progress I made... until I open the office door. So, if you ever show up at my house & the office door is shut... well, I'll give you one guess as to why.
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