digging out

Nick is still on hiatus.

I tried not to do it, but I did it anyway.

I cleaned my office. I even convinced myself the excuses I was coming up with for not doing it were sound and reasonable, but I forged ahead and did it. Maybe Nick will take a picture next time he shows up.

It's interesting, though, the kinds of things you find when you clean out piles and piles of accumulated and neglected stuff. I felt like an archaeologist on a dig, discovering evidence of the earliest hominid to inhabit the earth.

Here's what happened, and what I found, in no particular order:

1.) I found a brand-new travel toothbrush.

2.) (Not a surprise) I found a brand-new, unopened bottle of bourbon.

3.) Dried cat barf. Not brand-new. You know that song from the Stylistics? You Make Me Feel Brand New? Cat barf, whether moist or desiccated, does not make me feel brand-new. And, anyway, the cats don't come up here anymore, since I got my new dog. My new dog -- apparently -- is above eating dried cat barf. Too bad he's past the fifteen-day return policy.

I mean, hello! dogs eat barf, right? Who'd have thought they were coming out with some new, genetically-engineered, version of dog that abstains from eating barf? All my dogs have always eaten barf. Always. They've never let me down in that regard, not once. They often ask for more, looking at me with those longing doggy eyes that plead to me, Daddy, will you make some more,please? when they've finished.

But... noooooo... not mister no-I-do-not-eat-barf puppy.

What good is that, I ask you.

4.) (With an introductory rant) I hate all forms of paper mail -- with a BIG exception of hand-written paper mail from readers and anything from my editor or agent. And gifts. And CDs to review for Caught in the Carousel. Other than that, I think all businesses should just do things online. But even my utilities, banks, and most of the other bills I pay INSIST on sending me PAPER mail, which inevitably stacks up because I do literally ALL my business stuff online. Okay, so I just routinely started shredding up all these envelopes because I knew what was in them and I'd dealt with them months ago.

Until I started shredding an envelope containing cash.

American cash.

Now it's got a kind of Dennis-Hopper-in-Easy-Rider-jacket-fringe on the bills I managed to save.

Is there a law against shredding cash?

If so, I freely confess to having done that within the past 24 hours.

Put me in prison.

I'll take the "single" room with a king-size bed and southern exposure, please.

5.) I found no fewer than four packs of complimentary post-it notes from some of the author appearances I made in 2009. You can never have too many sticky notes, in my opinion, especially ones from Cracker Barrel Old Country Store in Lebanon, TN.

6.) A Dove Bar -- the candy kind, not the soap or ice cream kind. From a festival I went to last year. I thought about eating it, but it probably wouldn't go good with the bourbon, and, besides, the paper was stuck to it.