An unusual allergy

I think I have developed some kind of psychological aversion to paperwork. When I walk past my doormat and see piles of envelopes lying in wait for me, I shrink back in a bizarre mixture of fear and anxiety. As I move stealthily around my house, I see mounds of the stuff lurking and smirking from every surface. I never used to be like this, I used to be a PA. I was super-efficient, ten steps ahead (mind you, I always hated filing). Now I avoid post. I step over it. I place to one side. I put off. I prevaricate. Online banking fills me with dread and I feel queasy. Changing my power supplier has been a real headache of paperwork.

"You'll have to get around to sorting us out eventually", this growing pile sneers scornfully at me with alarming regularity.

I know, I know... I need to be more organised. I could come up with a string of excuses - top of which would be time... there are, after all, only so many hours in the day! When it comes down to it, I just need a spot of focus, a routine. Thing is, I'm not a routine sort of gal. I prefer to act on impulse, be ready to drop everything for a paintbrush when the muse strikes. I do not have a secretarial muse so she never makes an appearance which is rather a shame. I think we could be a good team and she would tidy up after me most efficiently. Her name would be Annabel. She would be from good stock and wear a smart suit. She would smile understandingly at my eccentricities, content to be the rock that supports the wobbling creature atop it.

Alas Annabel does not yet exist in my dimension. I must instead somehow find will and energy myself to blitz the piles this week, to climb on top and stamp it all down so it becomes manageable.

Instead of writing about it, photographing it and pondering how it might become art... JFDI girl, JFDI... Right, I'm off to get organised... Watch this space...