Being a world-class procrastinator, I just realized my dining room table has become a colossal in-box.
Since no one eats there except on holidays, it sits there in its dusty spender, just begging to be of some use. Ergo, it has become a repository for all things waiting to be filed away – jeans straight from the dryer which need folding; clutch bags I only use on Sunday; the lamp kit I bought six months ago to fix a broken lamp but can’t figure out how to do it; and Medicare materials I won’t be needing for another six months.
There’s also a thing-a-ma-duchy I found at an antique store and want to try to get someone to identify.
I do have an in-box on my desk in my home office. It is empty – well, except for some spare change I rescued from the vacuum cleaner. It’s always nice to have an empty in-box, so I must be trying to fool myself into thinking I have pressing tasks.
My mission today is to find a home for all the wayward junk on my dining room table. After all, Thanksgiving is just around the corner and it will once again get to serve the function I bought it for.