I can't help it. I'm a pile-er.
What does this mean, exactly??
It means that I stack. I sort. I pile.
At any given time, you might look around this place and find five different piles. Ten, on a bad day. Diapers (clean, of course) are stacked just so. Blankets, folded one on top of the other.
But where this talent of mine isn't so useful is with paper. You know the kind. Mail, bills, magazines, receipts, recipes you printed but never made, a note from the last doctor's visit... are you with me?
What do you DO with all of these things, but stack them up (neatly, for sure... I wouldn't dream of a messy pile!) until you've produced a stack worth doing something with.
I typically cannot be bothered to sort on the fly, therefore, piles.
My habit isn't something Ryan is a fan of, I don't imagine. Once in a while, push comes to shove (literally) and the pile winds up toppling over. It's not pretty when that happens. I watch in horror as it goes... the last receipt fluttering so gracefully to the ground.
While he was in Reno, I sorted The Pile and put away every last scrap of paper. I'll admit, the majority was trash. You should see how I sort the pile, by the way. It involves a series of smaller piles. The file-pile, the trash pile and the recycle pile... and then there's the recipe-book pile, the picture pile... oh, I could go on for ever. And risk boring you to tears.
But the kicker? I've already got a new pile started. It's a never ending battle, me and my piles.
I don't understand. Why can't I just throw.it.away. on the spot? I need some sort of super-fabulous organizational system, I think. Or just a little space, maybe.
What about you? Are you a pile-er? Or a toss-er?