I have little piles all over. Piles of unread magazines on the chairs at the bar, piles of magazines in the corner of my bedroom, piles of mail on the countertop. Most recently the most despised pile is the one of Christmas paper, tissue paper and bows beside my dresser - a speedy wrapping station, always at the ready - so functional, yet such a mess! I wonder if that is the short description of me?
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