Clutter is the leading cause of distraction-which can lead to death, because when one fixates on random junk instead of walking, it’s easy to trip down the stairs and die–among the housebound. And perhaps the bored writer, too. I don’t know why this happened but the second I realized the sheer amount of crap in the apartment, I started attacking, pushing those tchotchkes towards the dumpster with no remorse. And I kept attacking, weeknight after weeknight. The blitz rolled into the weekend, and now Monday.

Feel like I’ve been at this for 10 days straight now, and a lot more extrication is still needed.

I am big believer in the notion of the more stuff you own, the more it owns you. Boy, do these articles of dis-use have my number.

Query: how exactly did I come to own a Butt Master?