Also by the door is a waist-high 3-shelf bookcase of sorts I found at a yard sale. The top shelf has holds a carved wooden dish. This holds keys, sunglasses, outgoing mail and coupons, my hats…
The third shelf holds anything that needs to go out door with me the next day: library books to drop off, magazines to pass along, etc. The big red bowl holds the smaller stuff.
The bottom shelf holds books I’m currently reading, and the small space beneath it is where I kick off my shoes on entering
Each day, I open the little door, dole out a treat to Jazmine, grab my purse, toss anything outgoing into a carry bag and I’m out the door. Each day, on my return, I doff the hat, toss keys, sunglasses into the dish, tuck the purse behind its door, kick the shoes under the bottom shelf, pick up Jazmine and head toward the kitchen.
This part of my life is organized to the point of ritual. But, other areas of my life just flat defy organization. My studio is one of them. My writing space is another. Organization here is a carrot in the dangling just out of reach. No matter how I try, I never quite reach it. But I’m working on it.
© Perle Champion
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