Reading Sandra's post about Zen and the Art of Simplifying got me thinking seriously about the destructive effect of mess and clutter on my equilibrium.
4am found me still in the studio, humming blearily to myself, bent over the (extensive) bead and button collection and sorting it neatly into the compartments of this:
The Presco Type Cabinet is the ultimate answer to the eternal Crafter's Riddle,
'Where the Fuck Does One Put 23,555 Really Little Things?'.
Each drawer can hold this much:
and I call that A Beautiful Thing.
I finished just in time to catch a dawn screening of a documentary on Russian Iconic Art (which, in my already elevated state, completely blew my mind), took the OMGwhathappenedtomybaby off to her first day at high school (which went just fine, thanks for asking), and returned to my first full day at home during school term in 2 years.
No more driving across town, no more peak hour traffic, no more parent-at-the-gate (don't get me started), no more petrol cost blowouts. Just me and my espresso machine and the paper and the sunshine and Arabic internet radio and Big Stupid lying on my feet hoping for toast and the rest of my life ahead of me.
Of course, it's now 7pm, and I look like death warmed up, and I feel like I've been on a 3 day whiskey bender, but a quick peep into the type cabinet is all that's needed to restore me to a state of inner serenity that is almost...
(Tomorrow... beads. I plan to work my way, slowly, through the house, until I am at one with God.)