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Why I Need a Box of Junk
I am not a very organised person. I am a person who has piles of things lying around. To be fair, they’re mostly neat piles and I know what’s in them, but you wouldn’t typically describe my home as one where “everything has a place, and every thing in its place”. Except I do have a place for everything — my box of junk.
It’s a habit I can’t credit myself with starting — my mum knew I was messy as a kid, so she gave me a literal box which I kept in the dining room bookcase. In that box I would put the things that I needed to access regularly, as well as the things I didn’t want to put away yet, and the things that had no designated home. As an adult I adopted a slightly more grown-up version and replaced the cardboard packing box with an in-tray on or near my computer desk. But it’s still the same thing — a box of junk.
Calling it junk may be a little harsh. Right now it has documents I haven’t filed yet, a pack of Christmas cards I never opened, a book on model train layouts, an edition of Cosplay Culture magazine, Spiderman birthday banners, and a dagger shaped letter opener. You know, your typical assortment of things; some important, some awaiting their home, some there for easy access, and some that I’m just not sure where else to put. And because I have the box, my desk looks more like this than a disaster zone.
