Yes, it's finally come to this: I may actually have to clean my room.See, here's the deal. Ever since embarking on the so-called writing career, I've accumulated a slew of books and associated paper paraphernalia from all the conferences I've attended. Not being the organized sort, I've been storing this crap in (relatively) neat piles in all four corners of my bedroom. Well, if I'm honest, I have to admit we've gone way past using only the corners.
Anyway, I went to look for my passport last night.
Uh-oh.
I was so CERTAIN it was buried somewhere in the stack next to my bed...until I pawed through it and found zilch, nada, nothing. Oh, except for that cute little pink index card on which I wrote my five goals during the Reno conference in 2005. That was good for a hoot. Then there were the miscellaneous rejection letters I haven't been able to part with (nor file).
But no passport.
Doncha hate when you KNOW where something is...but you don't know where it is?
Sigh. Spring cleaning in August. It's just not right.
1 comment:
If you are looking for your passport, it means you are going somewhere neat, worth cleaning your house.
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