Before I found a place to live in Durham, I spent three months living out of suitcases. (And when I say suitcases, I mean it–no drawer space, and everything had to be packed up during the day because I was sharing a house with two small children and a curious cat.) Between the crazy storage and all the major decisions I was making, I had to keep an ever-growing sack of documents I needed, bills I was paying, etc. I sorted some of it when I first moved in, but there was always more, and it evolved into a small pile of junk mail and random papers beside my favorite chair.
Today, impelled by the desperate need to finally vacuum, I managed to get it together and file everything away. I’m mildly disturbed by whatever librarian genes give me this deep sense of satisfaction and completion from putting papers in order.