Something's got to give. It's late January, and the vestiges of Christmas, well, they're about to bury me. My desk in my study is eight books deep on every square inch, and where it's not eight books deep, it's art implements or old cameras or other kinds of whatnot. Ribbon, giftbags, tape, scissors. That's because I needed to move the books, art implements, old cameras and whatnot into the study so there could be Christmas in the living room and kitchen. But that was weeks ago, and now there's clearly some serious cleaning and organizing to do and I cannot seem to summon the will to do it. Tomorrow is the historian's birthday, and I need to get his presents sorted. But Christmas is still in the way.
This is leaving out entirely the whole Christmas tree situation. Which is not good.
Where are my inner resources, people? Are they somewhere buried under the books, art implements, cameras and whatnot? Or has Christmas eaten them?