I think I need to empty my study.
It's full to the brim with things I love like notes, Jack Skellington, books, pens, pocket watches, Christmas angels that are too pretty to live in a box all year, a glum photo of my gorgeous niece wearing butterfly wings, and several million works-in-progress.
I need to tear down my memo boards. All four of them.
They are covered in dozens of pictures from six different books (all in various stages of repair, some even waiting in the wings), notes I've scribbled of things wise people have said online, coach tickets, theatre tickets (or rather ticket as I'm going to said show alone - I can't decide if I'm brave or rather sad, perhaps both), and jingle bells (yeah, they never got put away either).
I need to empty my study because as the saying goes a tidy desk is a tidy mind and place a white sofa against a white wall and scribble words onto white paper or a white screen. Only, I don't do tidy, I do chaos.
I won't declutter my study, but a corner of space would be nice, somewhere I could lose myself in a story rather than twirling in my chair and making the little doctors, Tennant and Smith, walk like zombies across my desk.
Focus is nice. Maybe I'll sit in the empty bath and write and see how long it takes me to clutter that. Ooh, rubber ducks...
(P.S. there is no photo of the cluttered office because my camera is dead. "Phew!" said I).