piles

Funny that the article closed with "here's hoping she never ever cleans out her attic" because that's just what I was trying to do when the issue arrived. Last week's ice storm got under our roof hatch and poured into the attic and onto my storage. Nothing was too damaged, but it prompted an aggressive attack on the disaster left from construction 3 months ago, now that my grip is finally good enough for lifting.
In the piles I found Cinderella in a place I'd thought was safe, but her right hand was mortifyingly and mysteriously broken. Strange, is it not? Luckily the 2 fingers were still attached and a little glue and some painstaking effort from my own shaky hands got her right again.

Some readers (you know who you are) will probably tell me to post again quickly to move this embarrassing picture of my messiness off the top of my blog. But I think messes are important. Photos of studios that are clean and organized are boring and unrealistic, as are retrospectives of artists where every painting is brilliant. I want to see the crap and the failures and the mistakes in between the masterpieces. That's where the masterpieces come from. "Sh*t makes the flowers grow." There is no sense in pretending otherwise.

Besides, Teaching PreK-8 likes my piles. Granted it was at least livable back in August. There's a lot of digging and sorting to be done to restore it to that former chaotic glory. But a little pruning is needed this time around too. Hello eBay. This now is my pile of lentils.