Space...the final frontier

I had a fairly dyspraxia laden morning at work. I managed to successfully spill my juice twice, once right over a load of paperwork. (A bit of Robinsons helps drown out the sometimes plasticy taste of the water-cooler's contents, although fortunately any no added sugar orange staining on the office notes was avoided.) I also managed to thwack by elbow on a table corner, and at some point or other deposit much of the stationary resident on my desk across the floor.

Modern, spacious living and working environments would be great for the spatially unaware of us, but for many offices it's a matter of cramming in as much as possible, and my flat is certainly no better. In fact, the size of my flat, combined with my inability to keep anywhere tidy for very long leads to inevitable cascades of collapsing books, magazines, CDs, or anything else that can be poorly stacked and all too easy knocked asunder into a great chaos.

Perhaps when I'm in a somewhat more permanent situation I'll buy myself a place and fill it with all manner of storage devices, allowing me to divide up the infinitely numerous bits and pieces I'm forever in need of into tidy yet accessible locations. It's either that or a case of venturing to the opposite extreme of managing with very little. In some ways that's the advantage of going backpacking, which is something I've done on a number of occasions in recent years. You can only take along what you can physically carry. Although I'll still end up with reams of city maps and tourist bumph, after a few days in each place I'm still forced to pack up every belonging I've brought along into a modest bag and set off again. It's not a bad way of enforcing a little organisation for a while at least.