I think my desk and craft closet are bad influences on the rest of my office.
It started out slowly enough. Each week my weekly newspapers are delivered to our home. I snatch them out of the mailbox, after I've inspected it for any critters that might be skulking about (the mailbox, not the newspapers), mosey back into the house, toss the rest of the mail on the dining room table and retreat to my office.
There, I glance through the newspapers, checking to see if anyone I know has been arrested, sued, or died, then I get up the nerve to look and see if my column has made it into the pages once again.
In the beginning, I'd anxiously await the arrival of my papers, giddy with excitement at the thought of being a published columnist. If David was lucky, I'd let him read it first, but most of the time I'd just make a beeline for my office, close the door and proceed to cut out my column, along with the page heading, number, date, etc., and paste it into my scrapbook.
Here's where the bad influence part comes in: I am approximately four years behind on my scrapbooking, so there is a pile several feet high threatening to topple at the slightest movement, such as the air conditioner kicking on.
The newspapers by themselves aren't so bad, but they've been joined by books I've been meaning to read, out-of-date calendars, candles I've never lighted, two partially filled scrapbooks, and extra pages for the scrapbooks. I'm sure there's more up there, but frankly, I'm afraid to look.
And that's just the top of the desk.
Papers, more calendars, more books, a lamp, quilting magazines, etc. have multiplied so fast this self-producing mess is threatening to overtake the rest of the desk. I have one tiny little area for my laptop.
I suspect word has gotten out to my other hobbies, a/k/a, my sewing, that it's open season in my office. I have a sewing machine, lamp, a small ironing board, and iron, laminating machine, and wrapping paper for any occasion enveloping my sewing table.
The spare desk holds the printer, router, and security system as well as all my extra printer paper, photo paper, and cords, and such that I've collected over the years that I have NO idea what they are for. Most of it I cannot identify. Next to it is a filing cabinet where we've filed a few important papers. The rest is stuffed in the drawers of my desk, so if anyone needs an important paper, I'll need plenty of advance notice. A year should do it.
I also have a tall shelf/storage cabinet that used to hold only my sewing supplies. Now the bottom is holding all my Christmas snow globes and candles that cannot be stored in the attic. The shelves have sewing paraphernalia on them and the top holds a Cricut my niece gave me years ago. I haven't had the nerve to try and a fancyschmancy label maker I've used maybe a dozen times in all the years I've had it.
Rounding out my little haven is a storage cabinet David made years ago that now holds even more books (I may have a problem here), envelopes, and spare parts to computers I haven't owned in years but I'm afraid to throw any of it away. I just know the minute I do, I'll find a use for it. I open its doors only when I need an envelope.
We managed to pawn off, I mean gift to our daughter, my treadmill that was taking up way too much floor space. For most of the time I had it, its only job was blocking the doors to the cabinet and doubling as a place for hanging clothes and anything with a strap on it. It took a contortionist to get the door open and snake a hand in to retrieve an envelope which is the only real exercise I got with it so it had to go.
The one corner left is occupied by a golf clubs holder our kids gave us several Christmases ago. We didn't have room for it anywhere else, so here it ended up, holding two sets of golf clubs, shoes, balls, and tees. It looks so lovely in my office (not). Don't get me wrong. I LOVE it. Just not in my office.
I've read that a messy desk is the sign of a genius, but that was probably a rumor started by another person with a messy office.
I guess one of these days I'll get up the gumption to clean it all out. Probably. Maybe. Or maybe not. We'll see.