I've spent the last two days cleaning up our office. I get obsessive about getting organized before I start a new semester at school, although once the semester kicks off, I retreat to the comfort of my shamelessly slobbish ways. I've always been a self-proclaimed packrat (runs in the family), but yesterday I had to stop and question my mental processing mechanism for having instructed me to hold onto some of the things I found. Three-inch frayed ribbons, broken pencils, ripped folders (nothing that tape can't fix!), calendars from 2005. Pug has learned that while cleaning, he can turn to me and ask, "Can you make use out of this (cracked paperweight) one day?" and I'll almost definitively say yes to anything offered up my way. It might be an illness.
Whoops, time to go watch the The View at the gym. I'm back on the Put-Down-the-Donut-Diet. So far, not working.