One Year Later
I sit amongst the debris of my messy office. I have decided that tomorrow is the day I’m going to take a bin bag to it and sort it out once and for all seen as it looks like I will be working from it for the foreseeable future. My office is at the top of the stairs, it’s a tiny box room, which if it wasn’t an office could easily squeeze in another child or a family member that comes to stay that you don’t really like. It’s also become the dumping ground for paperwork, bills and my husband’s ever increasing music collection. The bookcase is a mess and sits behind me on Teams meetings. It’s embarrassing really and I’m constantly checking it to make sure there’s not an offensive titled book behind my head, and whilst I suppose I could change the background, I think I’d rather have a messy bookshelf than my head keep disappearing into outer space or it turn into a potato! Saying this the number of Quality Street wrappers cluttering my desk means that my head possibly already is a potato or
