I have spent all day trying to get stuff out of my office and it appears to have backfired. Papers are everywhere, files willy-nilly and I have no idea how to tackle this mountain.

Last night, while watching West Wing, there was this commercial for financial planning. A professionally dressed woman is cleaning out her office with her husband. Picking up awards and nick-nacks and putting in into a box whistling a happy tune. Her husband says something along the lines of… 14 years of work and it all fits into one box. She takes one last happy look at her now clean office, hits the lights, and strolls down the stairs with a box that looks like it weights .5 pounds.

Something is seriously wrong because I have only been here four years, but I have already filled five boxes full of very heavy stuff. Where does it all come from? Some stuff, I can only look at and wonder – what on earth possessed me to bring a pizza cutter to work. But there it is, in my desk drawer buried under 12 bottles of lotion. (Strangely enough, I never recall noticing my skin being dry at work but it must be. How else to explain the myriad of creme in the back drawer of my desk?)

I figure I’ll have to pace myself and rather than jump in the middle, I’m going to work methodically from one corner of my desk, inch by inch, to the other. After that, I tackle my computer. Just the thought of having to print out and file all the stuff I’ve collected over the last few years gives me the heeby-geebies.

May have to enslave Kevin and come in over a weekend. Wonder how much U-Hauls are renting for these days…..