Wednesday, January 19, 2011

The Curse Of Swollen Piles


Confession: when it comes to admin I’m a Doer-as-U-Goer, not a Hardcore Piler-Upper.

I like my inboxes cleared and my outboxes smeared with a rocket-fuel-like ejaculate of efficiency.

Piles of washing up after Sunday dinner? No chance! The moment those hot plates hit the dinner table, every last spoon and mixing bowl feels the dishwasher’s Radox splash.

That said, I don’t iron underpants.*
* So please, no cries of “Anal! Anal! Anal!” — especially if you’re reading this on your phone in the supermarket.

Since mid-November, however, I’ve got a little behind.** Piles of papers, unsorted, lie next to a computer crammed with cluttered directories, a phone packed with too many photos and memos and no-nos.

** Admit it, you want to snigger.

So I’m having a clearout — a bit like Santa after Christmas with the elves who ate too many chocolates.

The clichéd image, of course, is of the human-cum-octopus hybrid, busily attending to his backlog of unfiled detritus while swigging from a pint glass of Red Bull.

But that would be too easy. Far better that I drag some unsuspecting human-cum-octopus hybrid off the street and force him/her/it to crack down on my burgeoning piles. Or grab hundreds of the beggars, chop off their arms, and construct some kind of Tidying Golem.

As you don your clerical Marigolds, how do you picture yourselves?

A genuine Abysswinksback spangly Blogger Award awaits the best deployment of imagery, especially if you’re clearly making it up...

7 comments:

Scarlet Blue said...

I have no need for marigolds. I simply open the door of my woodburning stove and throw in the contents of my inbox. This gives me the extra time I need to play with my quacker horn - still giving me pleasure after all this time...
Sx

Eternal Worrier said...

Oh dear. I thought this post was going to be about something else.

Whirlochre said...

Scarlet
It gives me great pleasure to think of you honking away down there in the quaisi-Wurzel savannah...

Eternal Worrier
Nope, that's next week...

Travis Erwin said...

Some grocery shopped the next aisle over just screamed anal anal anal! i now know why.

Whirlochre said...

Could be the new 'streaking'...

Sylvia said...

You need to post a photo of your desk before you clean up. This I want to see.

Mother (Re)produces. said...

I dream of being anal. I do. As it is, I can't even find my desk.

But when I dream, I'm an army of cute, merciless, multitasking little fairies with pencil sharpeners and dusters.