I have a pretty tiny little studio. 

Quaint in real estate parlance.

It is full of character (older building).

It  has a lot of potential (needs work).

It is very cluttered. Oh wait, no, that’s not real estate talk, that’s just a fact.

I tend to have a lot of paper-related things stacked in my house: newspapers, old issues of The New Yorker, magazines, letters. Having lived in this place for about a year and half, the clutter just finds you. I’m working on a theory that states Clutter actually sneaks in, little by little, in the thick of night when we’re least expecting it. It’s very clandestine, under the radar, so you barely even notice it’s happening until weeks later when suddenly you wake up and there they are. Piles. Stuff. Clutter.

I’m launching a full-on offensive against Clutter in the upcoming weeks. It’s going to be a take no prisoners sort of operation.

Wish me luck. And if you have any interest in adopting a fair number of previous New Yorker magazine issues, let me know. They are free to a good home. It’s part of a new program I’m introducing whereby my clutter becomes yours. Exciting, huh?