Winter Cleaning

Over the weekend, at the insistence of my wife, I agreed to "clean" my home office/library . . . a feat I had not undertaken for nearly two years.  And I use the word "undertaken" literally, as I unearthed items I had long thought dead and buried.

For example, over the past two years I had simply piled manuscripts and letters and rejection slips into several heaping piles:  some on the windowsill, others on the floor or on top of a filing cabinet.  Sorting through these took hours, and based upon the amount of mouse poop and other defecation I uncovered in some of these piles, I'm rather certain I have now resurrected the bubonic plague.

I also "discovered" plagues of poems I had long forgotten about, swarms of short stories, and herds of cover letters and mailing envelopes (many with postage still affixed but unmailed).

One of my best discoveries was a science fiction story I had written--and a rather good one once I sat down to read it.  But for the life of me I can't recall writing it.  I must have, however . . . as the story has my name and distinctive tone to it.  I'll be sending this one along to an editor very soon.  Glad I found it.

Most of the material I unearthed in my office, however, was cartoned into boxes and is now making its way to the recycling bin.  I had several heavy boxes of material (duplicates, rejection slips, notes, letters, printed emails) that I simply don't have any place to store.  I nearly broke my back loading the stuff into the car.

My office now looks rather clean and polished.  Once I lift the other stacks of books off the floor and shelve some of the hundreds of books I've brought home in the past two years . . . the place should look good as new.

I need an office.