Outer space is weird. True. But that’s not the space I’m talking about.
I’m talking about my work space. And by work space I mean the crazy corner in my apartment for writing and making art. Things are out of control. I can’t use my table, and the shelves are full. Little odd things are everywhere, but everything seems like something I need to keep.
I’ve read Real Simple magazine, and all that’s really helped me do is lament my lack money for nifty matching containers and for a nifty house in which I can do as I please. I live in an apartment of about 800 square feet with two other human beings and two dogs.
How much clutter can one person have before madness?