Somebody left a comment on one of my recent "crabby" posts that said I must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. Truth be known, I've been getting up on the wrong side of the bed for months now; since Christmas my main "artistic" endeavor has been to clean my studio.
Now there is cleaning and there is Cleaning. I recall without much fondness a week when I was helping my sister clean up her entire condo to put it on the market. A couple of days into this task, the real estate agent called apologetically -- she knew we had agreed on next week to list it, but the perfect buyer had just walked in, and could she bring him over tomorrow? OMG, what about the entire lower level, full of stuff? We quick rented a storage locker, humped all the boxes and etceteras into the car, took three loads over that night, swept out the room, collapsed with Scotch. The real estate agent couldn't believe it when she walked in the next morning -- what had happened to all the stuff????
That's Cleaning. But that's not what I have been doing since Christmas. I've been allowing myself rests and digressions because otherwise I would just burn the place down and myself in it in despair. So every now and then I will stop, sit down and make more people out of the bits and pieces of fabric that don't easily go into one of the organized piles.
A whole lot of the previously free-floating stuff has been divested, or sorted into boxes, many of them neatly filed on shelves. Some of it still is free-floating, but at least not on the work table. Still a lot of cleaning and sorting to go, but a third of the studio has visible floors, neatly organized shelves, empty horizontal surfaces. This has not been fun, but it is nice to reacquaint myself with the top of my table.