I sit in my office, which has junk all over it. I can't write with all this mess!
So, time to send back those shoes I ordered that I didn't like, and break down the boxes and toss the other junk. Just basically clean up. How did I let it get to this point? Just junk. Junky room means junky thought. I think.
Wonder if I'll every get rid of the even more ridiculous piles of junk in my closet. Probably not. I don't write there.
Perhaps I won't notice if I keep the doors closed?
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