Stacks Upon Stacks

At times, my life feels like it's dominated by stacks. My desk is covered in stacks of materials that need to be addressed. Stacks of books cover my bookcases as well as the top of my filing cabinet. There are stacks of music on the piano top as well as in the floor. My clothes are piled in stacks on the bed in the guest bedroom. The stacks have taken over my life and I constantly fear that everything is about to come crashing down (literally) and take my last strand of sanity with it.

Why don't I take care of the stacks? The truth is that I don't know how. I tend to be a person who leans toward organization and finds comfort when everything has a place. When there is not a place for things, however, I let it stack up until I determine where it is going to live. I had developed a plan to organize one of the most stressful situations -- the storage of the mountains of musical scores -- but I'm finding that I am once again falling victim to the lack of follow through from others. I get frustrated about it. They seem oblivious. Others involved simply try to make the best of an awkward situation. It's a nightmare.

This is the struggle of an adult man attempting to relegate all of the possessions he's acquired in two rooms of a home that isn't his own. Somehow, I manage to survive with a clear path from my bed into the other areas of the house. I'm not satisfied with my current situation. I'm not living....I'm functioning and merely going through the motions. And you wonder why I am constantly saying that I am desperate for a job? I need a place to call my own. Hopefully, that most prized possession will find its way into my life in the not too distant future. Until then, I'll keep weaving my way through the stacks that are the strands of my life.