Semi-Controlled Chaos, by John Ostrander
People are sometimes invited to my house. They’re never invited to my office. Ever. A cluster of clutter bombs go off in there with alarming regularity. My shutting the office off from public view is my tacit admission that the place is a hole.
I have a defense. I’m “creative.” I’m an “artist.” My office space reflects my jumbled creative mind. Actually, as I look around me, it’s maybe reflecting a mind that’s on drugs or needs to be. We don’t have dust bunnies; we have free-range dust buffalo. Herds of them move about in a sort of majestic splendor. They intimidate the cats. Wait, I can hear them rumbling by now. No, hold on – that’s a dump truck rolling down the road.
There are piles of things all over the place. There are boxes piled on boxes in front of bookcases that also have boxes in them. Sections of the floor have not seen daylight in the better part of a decade. Not that I’m sure how much daylight gets in through the windows anyway since they acquired a grayish patina. I’d wash them but I think the tint is baked on.
I have a relative idea of where everything is with two exceptions: stuff relating to my taxes and the take-out menu to my local Chinese restaurant. I know they’re both in here but it’s often a problem to lay my hands on them at the exact moment I need either of them. I don’t know what the linkage is between my taxes and the take-out menu. I’m assuming there is one; why else would these be the only two things that go missing? Currently I’m working on two hypotheses – either the office has eaten them or the cats have stolen them. That’s the most logical explanation I can devise.
There’s a fairly clear path from the door to the corner of the room where my desk is located. The mess sometimes encroaches on the path but I haul out the old machete and hack my way back through and things are fine again – for the time being.
Why is my office in such a state? My defense – in part – is that I’m a freelance writer; I don’t get paid for cleaning up my office and I don’t make enough to hire someone to do it for me. I have enough problems with my deadlines as it is and vacuuming the rug doesn’t help me meet them. Plus – I’m a guy. Like many guys, I have a fairly high DTL – Dirt Tolerance Level. Plus I’ve named some of the dust buffalo. There goes Bob. Howdy-doody, Bob. (more…)

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Dirk Schwieger’s
Last Friday I took my first PTO (paid time off) day since starting my new job, as I’d slightly injured myself the previous Wednesday evening (thank goodness I’d already been to the comics shop by that point). As the injury involved my leg, and as I knew I’d be doing a lot of driving on Saturday, I planned to schlep to and from the office rather painfully on Thursday to take care of needed business, then treat myself to a non-commute day on Friday, which I’d devote to blogging on my home computer.
