Spring cleaning is good for the soul...

It's amazing sometimes how the simplest things can make such a difference. I've been stuck in a bit of a rut at work of late - of my own doing, mostly. My inbox is constantly full of red-flagged items and consequently I never seem to have the time to complete all those niggling little tasks I know I really should otherwise they'll build up. Hence the high towering piles of paper, newspapers and boxes of print that have taken over my desk and threaten to eat me. No joke. The towers were so high they swayed like an unstable jelly whenever anyone walked past. But no more! Oh no. There is a new me in the office. And it's all because the whole office is having a reshuffle and we've all been forced into a long-overdue clear out.

I now actually sit with people I work with, with a very tidy desk - both are firsts for me. With a window and everything. Amazing. The Other Half bought me a little purple-flowered plant to adorn the windowsill as I've harped on so much about having said window and being able to see daylight in the office for a change. And who'd have thought that moving desks could work such wonders for your productivity? I feel super-organised. (The extra added brilliantness of it all, is that I'm now nestled in the corner and have angled my computer screen in such a manner that nobody can see when I'm not feeling as hyper-efficient, and am actually cruising Digital Spy for gossip.)

The downside to this new-found tidiness is I've unleashed a stationery monster from within, and I didn't even know I had one. I had no idea that a whole world of matching files and storage boxes, neon post-its and coordinating kitsch desk items existed. Well, I did - but I've never had the space for them. Similarly, my sister has made me little odds and ends like Mome Raths out of pipe cleaners, little origami birds etc over the years which now have pride of place on my brand-spanking new workspace. However, I am now addicted to Pulpshop and Totally Funky. This must stop, I'm scaring myself.