I have just been wrestling with the complete mess in the back room in a vain attempt to clear a space around and maybe even on my desk. This is all in the hope that if I can get to my desk then I might even be able to motivate myself to do some work, and maybe even get on with the editing job I saddled myself with for the Underfire Comics ten year anniversary retrospective collection. Whilst pulling comics and miniatures out of dubious boxes that look like they were starting to rot it occurred to me, as it often does at my least guarded moments, that a lot of these boxes are in fact still packed up from the last time we moved.
Some of them from the time before that.
Some even from when I moved out of home when I was 18.
This is bad. Partly I think it comes from the renter's fear of being moved on - as we basically have nothing representing security of tenancy in this country, a situation about which I am profoundly angry - but it also stems from a deep-seated laziness cut-off point. Once you've got a place liveable, the motivation to do any more unpacking and sorting is swiftly diminished, until it dips below the motivation to play computer games and so becomes effectively zero.