The Messy Badger Who Lives in My Writer’s Den

The last time I deep-cleaned and fastidiously organized, I was eight months pregnant—which was forty-four years ago. Because I can’t count on another nesting instinct, it’s time to face the drawers of outdated research notes, defunct electronics, and enough paper clutter to make even a loyal badger leave the state.

I need motivation, so I begin with the first of three tricks that help me attack any dreaded chore: I set a timer. Anyone can handle twenty minutes—heck, I made it through the worst of multiple root canals and childbirth.

I’ve also learned to reward myself. Josie, my Cockapoo, earns a piece of jerky for each trick she performs. Imagining what would get my tail wagging, I decide to donate every mismatched stackable tray back to St. Vinny’s (where I bought them years ago) and invest in matching ones.

My third tried-and-true tip is to take “before” pictures as proof of progress. I snap four shots that make me cringe. A badger not only moved in, but he invited friends and threw a messy, drunken party. Paper tunnels snake everywhere, and hidden “treats” forgotten for years are yellowing and crumbling. I raise my own hackles, set the timer, and dive in.

Garbage, recycling, and St. Vinny’s bags line up beside me and quickly fill. I add a fourth for eyeglasses to donate and a fifth for old electronics headed to RadioShack. Then I unearth my laptop receipt and groan—had I found it last week, ordering a new charger would’ve been a breeze.

Some projects hit the trash, but a few still spark joy. The best discovery is an unearthed note: Ask Greg how to make a moose call out of a hockey skate lace and a coffee tin. Perfect! In my middle-grade novel, my main character, Bronte, wants to find an albino calf and considers calling it. I’m tempted to try the experiment immediately, but the timer’s ticking, so I stay on task.

Next, I uncover an old Reader’s Digest article, “The Goose That Came Home,” and think of Gertie, the goose we raised. She visited our lake cabin again this spring—her seventh year—proudly leading five goslings to the front door, honking in her signature raspy voice. I set the magazine in the kitchen for my next coffee break.

Sleeves rolled up, I sort the remaining piles into writing projects. The timer dings, but I’m on a roll. One desk corner becomes my “control center” bin, stocked with a calendar and a to-do list—so I can at least pretend I’ll follow it. Then I stumble across my recently purchased colonoscopy prep. What’s that doing here? It’ll disappear forever in the messy bathroom closet, so into the bottom tray it goes, neatly labeled “Pending Prep.”

Finally, I step back to admire the den. It’s not perfect, but it’s much better. Turns out organizing can be fun—especially when you do it every forty-four years. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Bronte and I have a moose to call.

4 Replies to “The Messy Badger Who Lives in My Writer’s Den”

Oh what fun this was to read. I could just see you in action!

I bet you saw me burrowing under piles of old manuscripts and nosing my way into all of those rejected submissions. 🙂

Debbie Gille

Ok….you have inspired me to clean my area….spiff it up at least. Probably many items i could let go. I like the idea of setting a timer!! Happy July Amy

Hi Deb,
I hope I did inspire you to spiff things up. I know I need motivation. Happy July to you, too.

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