I don’t really have a right to complain, since, well, I get to spend most of my days drawing at a desk, but I fear that this blog gives the impression that I blissfully float through my days filled with joy and smug satisfaction.

So, in full disclosure, here’s what was getting me down yesterday:

According to my schedule, I’m supposed to do filing on Fridays. Apparently, there hasn’t been a Friday around here in a LONG time.

There was also this:

I got a shredder, which I love. But I keep forgetting to empty it on recycling day. So while trying to clean up the studio (read: move papers from the flat table to my desk) I actually remembered to empty it. The best thing I found for it was a paper bag. Now that it’s been emptied (to prepare for filing Friday) I worry I will tip it over or a child will find it (both of which happened last time). I know there is a simple solution to this problem, and yet I will not do it.

And then this:

A growing stack of original illustrations that need to be put in boxes with glassine between them. The box then needs to be labeled, put away, and promptly lost. A more generous (and less realistic) me would suggest that it’s the “prompt losing” that makes me wary of the whole process – that I don’t want to part with my drawings, to not see them every day on my desk. That is absolutely wrong. If I could skip all the first bits, I would be happy to go straight to them being lost. This is why I like the shredder so much.

And then this transpired last night, while I was trying to fix some stuff on the Bobbledy Books site (anyone who knows me should know that web work is like quantum physics to me, and requires my complete focus):

“Hey, what’s that?” I ask.

“What, this?” he says.

“No, no – the other thing.” I say.

“Ummmm…”

“Come on,” I say, “what have you got?”

“Oh. Um. You mean this?”

“Yes, THAT,” I say.

“Oh, yeah! Here you go,” he says.

“Hmmmm….” I say.

“Oh no wait, never mind,” he says. “Yeah, no, wait, I want it back!”

Yeah, baby.

This is really what it was all about:

I momentarily contemplated having anxiety about this:

but decided against it, given the fact that it was clearly the source of so much joy. Along with the fact that I hardly ever remember to even use deodorant. In fact, I have no idea where that came from.

And now, if I could just find a shredder that would take care of sticks of deodorant.

Though, come to think of it, I suppose I already have.