
I'm the least organized person I know. I refuse to write anything down and pile all my belongings into random stacks around my office. I also buy (and keep) 40 odd comic books a month. So, naturally, my office is almost always a gang rape of printer paper, empty glasses and wobbly towers of comic books.
In an effort to fix this problem, I birthdayed my way into a set of
Drawer Boxes.
It took a couple months, but as of last night, I've put the things to use. My comics are now organized, alphabetized and up off the damn floor.
I should feel good about this. I really should. But... No.
I mean, it worked. My office is clean. My books are in order. And, honestly, it was liberating to weed out two long boxes full of mediocrity.
But GOOD GOD. That's a fuck crate of comics. A person shouldn't literally heft the weight of their own obsessions. It's daunting.
Whatever. I love comics. I love buying them and reading them and I do want to be able to revisit the older stories. I just don't want to think of myself as a manchild packrat.
Maybe next time I'll hire someone to do it for me. That would be EVEN MORE sad but at least I wouldn't have to see it happen.