Sat in my room surrounded by mess…
Clothes (half my wardrobe including dozens of odd socks.)
Paper (bank statements, sketching paper, bus timetables.)
Receipts (some from three years ago, others a little more recent as I bought a snazzy new dress for the hen weekend.)
Lists (jobs to do, that I still haven’t done)
Shoes (grey converse, ballet pumps and several pairs of tatty heels.)
Books (The art of expressionism, Kandinsky, The life of St Teresa of Avila…non of which I’ve started reading.)
Plus, a lip gloss, a CD player, dust sheets, carrier bags, puzzle book, a pink Eiffel tower key ring, two hairbrushes and a million glasses.
Is this chaos a reflection of my mind? Or am I just a messy slob?
Or am I just writing about all this crap encircling me because I’m totally uninspired and unmotivated to complete all of the millions of things I should be doing?
I think the latter.