My little cabin, is undoubtedly, a mess. Many would assume that a little rural Alaskan writer would be quite the tidy soul. But they are sincerely mistaken. Rustic and filled with many worldly collections, my home is most certainly an unorganized chaos. My windowsills are filled with toppling over plants, my floors are filled with toys for my many pets, and I let dust collect for much too long. Without running water much of my dishes and clothes go unwashed for periods of time. I prefer muddy paw prints over pristine shiney wooden floors. And I kind of like my random stacks of books, craft supplies, and artifacts scattered about. And now that it is the stereotypical spring cleaning time I have set my mind to organizing. But I suppose artistic souls are just not the organized kind. For I often find myself in fascination of a long-lost possession, and forget simple-heartedly about the rest of the mess.
