Gigantic walls of books tower in my living room. We are moving offices at the University of the East and I hadn't realised how my regular raids on the free bookshop in Barnet for music titles, and my capacity for buying second-hand books through the internet, had resulted in such a plethora of cardboard and paper with writing on.
I have two academic papers to write: well, one to finish (two more books arriving next week) and one to start. Every time I think that I'm close to finishing the first one, another question mark appears on its horizon and I have to dig deeper, deeper.
The second one is controversial and feels like setting up one of those life-size wooden people at the end of a shooting range, and waiting to be shot at. So a lot of the research will be to create armour to deflect the shots. That should be fun.
Sometimes I think about a garden shed with a notice on the door saying 'Library'. It would have to be tiny; I haven't got a garden, but I have a yard. Where would I put the dustbin? Perhaps I could hang it from a reinforced washing line.... perhaps I could hang the books in hammocks, from the ceiling.
I have half an album on this computer too. I have to decide whether to keep things simple and manageable (I could do it all myself) or to add musicians and make it complicated (and expensive). I am going to listen this weekend and think about making a decision.
You may have guessed that I am prevaricating. It's time to look at Academic Paper One and change the red bits (=needs attention) to black (=sorted!). Every time I do this, the need for more red bits arises.
As soon as the new-old books turn up and have been devoured, I shall tell the paper: 'You're done!'.