I've just got done spilling a full cup of coffee all over the table. The coffee table, people! Thats one of my main filing systems, fer gawd sake. Old mail, current watercolor wip, a couple of pads of art paper, newspapers, small personal phone book... You get the picture. All things that soak up moisture.
After going through a roll of paper towels sopping things up, I almost slapped my forehead. "DOH... I should have used a sponge. DUH!!" Fortunately, I caught myself, looked at the dripping mess in my hands and rushed to the sink. Close call.
I'm feeling boxed in.... no elbow room.... no butt room.... no room at the inn. The butt end? You know what I mean. Last night I was practicing some watercolor techniques (snort) and I needed to be near/over the sink. Trying to find room for the paint, brushes, palette, and paper, among the margerine, coffee maker, salt and pepper, not to mention the dishes that need to be put away, I began whining about not having enough room. Its one of my themes for this life time.
Oh sure, I could put some of that stuff away, but then I wouldn't have anything to play poor-me with, or to write about. Having a large enough room where it doesn't matter if paint gets on the floor or walls, sticking nails or thumbtacks in the walls doesn't matter... counter/table space to spare, filing drawers, racks, shelves.... these are the things that make up heaven. Knowing me, however, (and I'm being honest here) I would probably end up with everything in one of the corners whining about not having enough room. Sigh.